


Little Runaway

by scarecrow_horses



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-21
Updated: 2018-11-21
Packaged: 2019-08-26 23:44:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 42,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16691212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarecrow_horses/pseuds/scarecrow_horses
Summary: An alternate ending to the 'Glory' problem from season 5.  Dawn comes up with the perfect solution, and Spike reluctantly agrees.  Now they just need a 'rational, mature, adult' to make the idea palatable to Buffy.Enter Xander.....Originally posted at 'Summer of Spike' and my Livejournal from August of 2004 - January of 2005.No major rewrites, just some judicial editing and fixing of messy formatting.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Please check the end notes for a few triggering warnings, thanks!

Me. Right now, Glory thinks Tara's the key. But _I'm_ the key, Spike. I am." Dawn pushed her hair back, her eyes wide and wet. Angry. "And anything that happens to Tara...is 'cause of _me_. Your bruises, your limp... that's all me too! I'm like a lightning rod for pain and hurt. And everyone around me suffers and - and dies. I must be something so _horrible_...to cause so much pain and evil." Her voice had died away to a miserable, sniffley whisper and she hugged herself.

"Rot," Spike said, as firmly as he could, and Dawn wiped angrily at her face, looking stubborn.

"What do _you_ know?"

"I'm a _vampire_ , Niblet. I know somethin' about evil. You're not evil." He sighed and sat down next to her - braved an awkward pat on her shoulder.

She looked up at him hopefully, but then her expression fell again. "Maybe...I'm _not_ evil. But I don't think I can be good."

_What's so bloody special 'bout bein' good, anyway?_ "Well, _I'm_ not good, and I'm okay." That got a sort of choked laugh out of Dawn, and they sat in silence for a couple of minutes. Spike had just decided to reach for a cigarette when Dawn straightened and turned to him.

"Spike - you'd do anything for Buffy, wouldn't you? I mean - anything to help her. Right?"

Spike looked consideringly at Dawn, pulling out his smokes and lighter. "Well, yeah. 'Most anything."

"And you know, all she really wants right now, _all_ she wants, is to keep me safe. Right?"

"Ye-aah..." Spike said slowly. He lit a cigarette - plumed smoke up and away from Dawn. _What's she gettin' at, I wonder? About as subtle as a whore in church._

"Then, don't you think, the best thing for me to do would be to just - go away? I mean - if Glory can't _find_ me, then she can't do the ritual, and if she can't do the ritual then she can't go home and she'll just - fade away, won't she?"

"I don't think anybody knows what'll happen to her if she doesn't go home, Niblet... But you're not goin' anywhere, you're gonna stay right here, safe and sound. Me and big sis, we'll take care of _Glory_." Spike put as much sarcasm as he could into that last - anything to hide the sinking feeling he got when he thought about the Hellgod. She was _tough_ ; he'd never felt such strength. Not even Buffy's hardest punches had done more than turn her head. Unless the Watcher came up with something - or Red found some spell - the Hellgod seemed invulnerable. _Was_ invulnerable.

"But you can't!" Dawn jumped to her feet, agitated, and Spike twitched back a little. "Don't you understand? The only way for all this to stop - for all this...this pain and… _hurting_ to stop is for me to go away!"

Spike had a sudden, unwelcome thought and he grabbed Dawn's arm, ignoring her startled gasp and dropping his cigarette. "You're not talkin' about - you're _not_ asking me to -?"

Dawn gaped at him, and then shook her head wildly. "No! No, I'm not - I don't want to kill myself! We should just run away, Spike! You take me - take me anywhere. Take me down to Mexico or - or up to Canada, anywhere! If we leave right now we can get far enough away that she'll _never_ find us!"

" _What?_ " Spike roared, and Dawn started to cry again, trying to pull her arm out of his grip.

"It's the only way, Spike!"

"Bit, you're just upset -"

" _Stop that!_ " Dawn screeched, and Spike let go in utter startlement, his ears ringing. "Of _course_ I'm upset! You almost _died_ because of me! Tara is - Tara lost her _mind_ because of me! All these terrible things keep happening because of _me!_ Buffy lays in bed at night and _cries!_ I _hear_ her! Do you know how that makes me _feel?_ I'm not a stupid little kid, Spike. I'm this - this damn _key_ , that's making all these horrible things happen to the people I love, and it has to _stop!_ " 

Dawn ran out of breath and steam at the same time and collapsed onto Spike, sobbing noisily. Spike looked down at the sleek fall of brown hair buried in his t-shirt for one shocked moment and then he gathered her close, shushing her gently. He settled them carefully back on the rock ledge and continued to pet her hair - croon nonsense into her ear. It was eerily like Dru when she'd had a bad dream or a bad vision, and he gingerly rested his lips for one moment on Dawn's head. After a bit Dawn sat up, wiping at her face and sniffling. Spike rummaged in a pocket and came up with a mostly-clean bandana and passed it to her. Dawn blew noisily, wiped her face, and tried to hand it back.

"Just toss it, pet. Don't fancy havin' that in my pocket."

Dawn tossed the bandana away then slumped, looking at her hands. "You don’t think it would work, do you," she mumbled, and Spike sighed.

"Listen, Dawn; in theory - in _theory_ , mind - it's a brilliant idea. Get you out of the way of the Goddess of Bad Home Perms; let the Slayer deal with her without any distractions... But -"

"But what, Spike?"

Spike stood up - paced back and forth, wincing when he came down too hard on his hurt leg. He retrieved his cigarette and puffed on it. " _But_ , in practice, there's a bunch of things you've left out."

"Like what?" Dawn folded her arms - got _that_ look on her face that said 'Slayers Little Sister' and had sod-all to do with monks and mystical keys.

"Like - like runnin' away takes a _car_ , yeah? An' - money. _Lots_ of money -"

"I have almost three thousand dollars, Spike." Dawn said quietly, and Spike stopped dead and gaped at her.

"What?"

"I said - I have three thousand dollars. I - I've kinda been...stealing stuff and -"

" _Stealing stuff?_ What in bloody hell have you been stealing worth _three thousand dollars?_ " 

Spike glared at her and Dawn cringed away a little, then sat up and put her chin in the air. "Me and Janice figured out a way to get those tag-things off of clothes. And she goes into the really ritzy places in the Mall and - and she wears this kind of disguise -"

"Bit -" Spike warned, flicking the burned-down cigarette away, and Dawn gulped.

"Anyway, she takes the most expensive stuff and gets the tag off and then, later, I come back and I pretend I got it for my birthday only I don't like it or it doesn't fit and they give me my money back. See? And we split the money. And - I took some stuff from the Magic Box, too, and sold it -"

"Sold it where?" Spike asked, a dread certainty in his stomach, and Dawn wet her lips nervously.

"Sold it at that th-that pawn shop down on Rosera -"

" _Christ!_ What in _bloody hell_ were you thinking, Dawn! That place is -"

"It's the only place to sell magical stuff! And I told them I was the Slayer's little sister and - and that you would come and kick their a-asses if they didn't give me a good price."

"Oh _fuck_." Spike slumped to the stone ledge, head in hands. _No bloody wonder I've been gettin' the damn evil eye in there! What the hell did she think she was **doing**?_ Spike sat there for several minutes, thinking of all the horrible things Buffy would do to him when she found out. Thinking of all the horrible things that could have happened to Dawn. Thinking, after another minute or two, in which Dawn shuffled nervously and coughed, that the plan wasn't half-bad, really. 

_Three thousand'd go a long way in Veracruz…._ Spike thought, remembering with a fond smile the three months he and Dru had stopped off there on their way to Brazil.

Dawn saw the smile and sat down next to him, suddenly perky again. "See! _You_ think it's a good idea, too. I've got a route all planned, Spike. I got maps online at the library and I got a cell-phone from the guy at the pawn shop, he put it in somebody else's name -"

"'Cause it's stolen," Spike said absently, sitting up and lighting another cigarette. "Probably doesn't work."

"Yeah, it works - I called Janice on it and she called me. He said it would work no matter what. I just have to buy those cards that give you minutes, 'cause there's no place to send a bill to. And I've got my stuff packed - the stuff I'd really need and would m-miss, and I know where to get some - some blood for you...." She trailed off and _looked_ at Spike, and Spike finally shook his head.

"Wouldn't work, Niblet. The minute Big Sis can't find you she's gonna come find _me_ , and the minute she realizes you're gone with me she's..." Spike stood abruptly, pain wrenching through him. "She's gonna think the worst." _And she will, too. Doesn't matter that I didn't sell the Bit out to Glory - all she sees is...the evil, soulless monster she hates and... She'll dust me before I have time to blink._

"But Buffy knows you wouldn't hurt me! I mean, you didn't tell Glory who - wh-what I am and -"

"Doesn't matter, Dawn. She just...doesn't trust me."

"That's stupid, Spike. You love her."

Spike laughed - smoked for a minute. "Doesn't matter how _I_ feel though, does it? All that matters is how _she_ feels. And she doesn't love me. Never will." Spike stared at the glittering surface of the rock wall in front of him - tiny chips of quartz and mica catching the light of the torch he'd brought back there and shining like stars in the dimness.

_Never will. She **never** will. I've just been foolin' myself all along. Hell - maybe I only love her 'cause she **won't** love me. Who knows? It's crazy, to love the Slayer. All that crap Dru told me...havin' to be nice to her and her...gang 'cause of this damn **chip**.... It's got me all - messed up in my head. Time to get straight._

Spike dropped his cigarette - turned to look at Dawn."She'll just come after us and dust me, Little Bit, and that's one extra thing she doesn't need right now." 

Dawn looked at him for a moment, and then she smiled, slowly. "But - she wouldn't come after me - us - if she thought I was with somebody she could - could trust, right? If she thought you were just being paid to bodyguard me and the real mastermind was - was somebody else, right?"

Spike snorted. "Right. What, you gonna talk the Watcher into comin' along for the ride? Never happen, Bit."

"No, not Mr. Giles." Dawn made that typical 'He's old and frumpy' teenager face, and Spike almost laughed.

"Who then?"

 

"Xander? Xander! Wake up!"

"Wakey-wakey, Harris! Time to rise and shine!"

Xander felt like he was slowly surfacing from the bottom of a pool of syrup. Or maybe cement. His head felt too big, his mouth was dry and tasted absolutely awful, and there was a dull thudding behind his eyes.

_I did **not** get drunk to dull the pain of Tara getting...brain sucked. I didn't fall and hit my head... I wasn’t attacked on the way home... I wasn't attacked _at_ home. Or - wait…._

Xander tried hard to remember what _had_ happened, but he was distracted by something cold and wet on his face. "Stop that! What the hell -" He opened his eyes - immediately squinted them shut again.

"Oops, sorry."

"Gimmie the torch, Bit."

_Dawn? **Spike**? Oh my God. Spike got the chip out and I've been kidnapped. He's gonna turn us over to Glory!_ Xander felt his heart start to pound and he flinched away from the cold thing that touched his face again.

"Relax, Harris. I'm not gonna turn you over to Glory. And I didn't get the chip out." Spike's voice was so frustrated and disconsolate on the last statement that Xander opened his eyes again.

_He wouldn't be able to keep the smirk out of his voice if he really **had** got it out. So what the hell?_ He stared at Dawn, who was leaning over the front seat of the car, a wad of damp fast-food napkins in one hand and a bottle of water in the other. Spike was next to her, holding a flashlight.

"What the hell is going on?" Xander tried to yell but found he couldn't - his throat hurt, and he felt a little - dizzy. "What did you _do_ to me! Don't you dare hurt Dawn, you undead freak!"

Spike rolled his eyes - shot a look at Dawn. "I _told_ you, Niblet. You owe me five bucks."

"Xander, why do you have to be such a - such a jerk!" Dawn pouted, and Xander goggled at her.

" _What?_ We've been kidnapped by Fangless and _I'm_ being a jerk? What the hell -"

" _We_ haven't been kidnapped - _you_ have. _We're_ running away."

Once again Xander could do nothing but stare. His mind reeled - and boggled - and - _And I think it's shutting down. This is just - insane. Running away? What is this, an After School Special?_ Xander lifted his hand to wipe his face and realized he couldn't. There were _manacles_ around his wrists, with chains that led down to his - Xander bent over a little, squinting. Yep, manacles around his ankles. And a short length of chain locking it all to the floor of the car via a sturdy stainless bolt. 

"I'm _chained_ to the fucking _car_."

"Wondered how long it would take you to notice." Spike's voice was _definitely_ smirky this time, and Xander sat up and shot him an evil glare - looked around. The car had dark windows - _really_ dark windows. And rather ratty leather seats and the handle of an ax sticking out from under the driver's seat. 

And it somehow looked...familiar.

"The DeSoto?" Xander asked, and Spike grinned.

"Yup. Willy had it in a lot for me - just had to go pick it up."

Xander nodded - wrenched suddenly on the chains and glared when Spike laughed.

"You can't break 'em, Harris. Those might not hold _me_ but they'll hold _you_ just fine."

"How do you feel, Xander?"

Dawn looked concerned and Xander felt his mind boggling again. "How do I _feel?_ Dawn, pardon me very much, but that is the _stupidest_ question you could ask me."

"Well _pardon me_ for caring! Spike thought he might have given you too much of that stuff -"

"What _stuff?_ " Xander asked, and his voice was deadly quiet. Spike widened his eyes at him in a parody of fear. He looked like a manga character when he did that and Xander suppressed a wildly inappropriate urge to laugh.

"Don't get all threatening, Harris. I just gave you a little shot of sleeping dust. Had to get you out of your place and into the car, didn't I? Didn't want to have to explain or listen to you squawk."

Xander stared at him - at Dawn, who took a swig of the water. _This is insanity. This is...my life. Jesus._ "Dawn? Could I have a drink?"

"Huh? Oh, sure." Dawn held the bottle out - winced a little when Xander rattled his chains at her and held it to his mouth for him.

He drank several long swallows and felt the roughness of his throat ease a bit. "Thanks, Dawn. Now - I would really, really like it if you two could explain to me why, exactly, I'm chained to the DeSoto."

Dawn and Spike looked at each other, and Spike raised the scarred eyebrow, looking surprised.

"I _told_ you he'd be reasonable."

"That you did, Bit. He probably won't _stay_ reasonable, though."

"I'll be perfectly reasonable if you just _explain_ ," Xander snarled, and Spike grinned.

Dawn shook her head. "Okay. It's like this - I was telling Spike..." As Dawn outlined the plan - and his role in it - Xander grew increasingly calmer.

_Right. Fine. We're, what - a couple hours out of Sunnydale? Buffy and Giles and Willow - well, maybe not Willow - will be along any time now. This car is easy to spot, and Willow can do a spell... I'll be home by lunch time._ He relaxed and leaned back against the seat behind him and Spike looked surprised - then amused. 

"What're _you_ laughing at, Fangless?"

"Oh, nothin' much. Just the little thoughts whirlin' around in your head, is all."

"What's _that_ mean?"

"Just that I can see what you're thinkin', plain as day. You're thinkin' we're still close to home, and that the Slayer and maybe the Watcher'll be here any minute, like the Lone Ranger or somethin', and whisk you off home."

Xander felt himself pale a little at the amused tone Spike used, and looked at Dawn, who looked anxious. 

"Well - it's true, though."

"Uh - Xander..." Dawn twisted the napkins in her hand - looked at Spike.

Spike smirked. "I gave you the sleeping dust on Wednesday night. We drove 'til the sun came up and hit a motel - then we drove again, and then we slept - and then we drove -"

Spike's grin was as wide as Xander's eyes felt, and his stomach turned over in fear. _What the hell - it's been - two nights? Three? This is…._

"It's almost dawn on Saturday, Xander. You've been asleep awhile." There were traces of fear and worry in Dawn's voice, and Xander looked over at her - saw the same thing in her eyes.

"I'm okay Dawn. No thanks to the evil undead. Jesus, Spike, I could have died!"

"Nah." Spike dug around in his coat and came up with a cigarette - cracked the drivers window open a bit and lit it. "I was pretty sure you'd be okay." He winked at Dawn, who smiled back, and Xander pulled at the chains again.

"Well, okay, so we're - we're further away than I thought. Doesn't mean that Buffy and Giles won't -" 

Spike was shaking his head, still grinning, and Xander wanted to punch him. "What now?"

"I've still got connections, Harris. I got us a spell - put it on the car, and on me and Niblet and you. If the witch tries a locator spell it'll tell her we're someplace else - or it won't tell her anything - or it'll tell her we're still in Sunnydale. Warlock bloke I know, he likes the idea of scrambling the signal, like they do with the pay-channels on the telly." Spike puffed - tapped ash out the window. "He said it'd work a treat, and it does. Had another bloke I know test it, last rest stop."

Spike was watching Xander closely and Xander tried hard not to let his feelings of panic and defeat show. He was pretty sure it didn't work. 

"Fine then. You're running away from being the key, Dawn, and Spike is running away from being decent for once in his unlife and you decided to drag _me_ along. Great."

"Get over it, Harris," Spike snapped, and fed his cigarette butt out through the window. "Dawn wants you here - you're gonna take care of her during the day and keep her company. I'm gonna keep the demons and other assorted nasties off the both of you and provide money and whatnot. We're not goin' back until Glory's dead. Live with it."

"Sure, I'll _live_ with it Spike. But did you guys think of how _Buffy_ is gonna live with it? She's gonna be going _crazy_ , Dawn! Do you have any idea how worried she must be? How could you do that to her?" 

Spike was scowling at him, and Dawn gulped. "I - I know she'll be w-worried, Xander, but -"

"There's no _'but'_ , Dawn! This is - this could kill her." 

Dawn stared at him, and her eyes got bigger, and bigger and suddenly she was crying - hoarse sobbing that made Xander's heart constrict painfully in his chest. Spike looked murderous now, and he kicked his door open - got out. Xander tensed, expecting the back door to open and Spike to lean in and punch him _(chip, he's got the chip still!)_ but nothing happened for a minute. 

Then Dawn's door opened and Spike was coaxing her out - talking in a low, soothing voice. Xander could just see them in the dim light of - wherever they were. Dawn had her head on Spike's chest and Spike was petting her hair, holding her gently. Xander frowned at that - tried to see where they were but he only got the impression of concrete and dirt and asphalt - under a bridge, maybe, or in a garage. He could hear traffic noise, but it was muffled. After a few minutes Spike let Dawn go and she crawled back into the car, her face pink and splotchy and her nose running. She grabbed some dry napkins from the dash and blew her nose - wiped her face.

Spike shut her door and came around again - got into his seat, still frowning. "Don't do that again, Harris. You've got no right to make her feel that way. She's - we're _both_ \- doing what we think's best."

"I left a tape, Xander. _We_ did. Spike sto - got a video camera and we made a tape. I explained the whole thing, and I even talked about some stuff that only me and Buffy know, so she'd know I wasn't being - forced to do it. And Spike - Spike promised, right on the tape to take care of me."

"Like that means anything," Xander mumbled, and Spike reached back and whacked him in the head - grimaced at whatever the chip did.

"Fuck you, Harris. I may be a vampire and I may be less than nothing to _you_ , but I was an honorable man, and I still _am_ honorable. I swore on my life and my unlife I'd keep Dawn safe, and I meant it. The Watcher'll understand even if the Slayer doesn't."

Spike looked truly pissed and Xander stared at him for a minute. 

_Is he for real? He seems - sincere. Jesus Christ. This is all - this is nuts. But there's nothing I can do about it. Not now. Damnit._ "Okay - fine. You promised, you left a tape - that's great. What the hell about _me?_ Anya's gonna think -"

"We told them about you, Xander - we told them you agreed to come along to protect me. Anya will probably think you're a - a hero, or something."

Dawn smiled nervously at him and Xander sighed. "I doubt it. She'll probably think... Oh, fuck it. Sorry Dawn."

Dawn rolled her eyes. "You didn't hear Spike last night when we couldn't get out from behind this truck. Whole new set of words I hadn't even heard before." She grinned at him and Xander couldn't suppress a snort of laughter, and the tension in the car eased a bit.

"Oookay... So, I'm awake now. What's going on? And I gotta tell you - I really need to pee." As soon as he said it, Xander realized how truly uncomfortable he was _down there_ , as it were, with more than the need to pee, and he suddenly thought that if he didn't get out of the car they were _all_ going to be sorry. 

"Uh - I mean it, Spike. I really, really need to -"

"Yeah - sleeping dust meant you were _sleeping_. Not doing anything else, thank fucking God." Spike opened his door and got out - opened the door on Xander's left and leaned in, key in hand. He unlocked the padlock that held the chain around the bolt on the floor and helped Xander get out by dragging on the chain.

Xander stood slowly, his whole body cramping. "Right. Ok. Bathroom? Now?"

"Right." Spike looked around - jerked on the chain and Xander stumbled along after him. Fortunately there was enough slack that he could walk normally, but his legs felt like two big logs or something, and his calves were knotting up in some spectacular charley horses. 

It seemed they were in some sort of garage - abandoned by the look of it - with the dawn light coming in milky-blue through the soaped-over windows of the garage doors. Through a doorway there was a counter and some empty shelves and then a scratched red door that Spike kicked open. He reached in and pulled the string and a yellow bulb miraculously snapped on. The bathroom wasn't too awful, but there were no windows at all. Spike unlocked the manacle on Xander's right wrist - re-locked it around his left wrist and pushed him towards the bathroom.

"There you go, Harris."

Xander shot him a dirty look and shuffled in - shut the door and locked it. He heard Spike laugh. "Stupid vampire," he muttered. 

When he was done, he cleaned up as best he could in the trickle of cold, gritty water that was all he could coax from the tap. He looked in the spotted mirror over the sink, grimacing. He was pale - dark-circled under his eyes - and his lips were chapped and cracked. His teeth felt - _tasted_ \- horrible. He unlocked the door and stuck his head out, and saw Dawn standing by the counter.

"Xander! Better now? Here - I got you your toothbrush." Dawn came over, holding out his own toothbrush and paste from home, and a new bottle of water.

Xander took them - tried on a small smile. "Thanks, Dawn. Look - I'm sorry. I - I didn't mean to make you cry, but don't you think -"

"Yeah, I _do_ think, Xander! I think everybody kinda forgets that sometimes." Dawn's expression was fierce and totally serious. "This is gonna _work_. Glory can't find me - nobody can. And when the time for the...the ritual is over and Glory is all...messed up, Buffy'll be able to kick her butt, no problem. Or Willow will. It's better this way. Nobody else will get hurt and Buffy can just concentrate on Glory."

Xander looked at her - at the hope and fear and _exhaustion_ in her eyes, and he let whatever he'd been going to say just...die. She needed this - needed to think this was a good idea, a solution - a way to _help_ , and Xander wasn't going to make her cry again. 

_But I'm not going to go easy on Spike. Even if Dawn doesn't know better, **he** should._

"Oh...okay, Dawnie. Okay. I'm just - I just wish you'd - talked to me first." Xander turned back to the bathroom and got his brush ready - started on his teeth.

"It'll be okay Xander. You'll see."

Xander looked at her reflection in the mirror - nodded and smiled a foamy smile, and Dawn smiled back. Xander spat into the sink and cracked the water bottle open - rinsed his mouth. _Hope it will be, Dawnie. I really do._

 

Spike paced the empty garage - smoked two cigarettes in rapid succession and watched Dawn and Xander surreptitiously through the doorway into the 'shop' part of the garage. Despite his confident air in front of Xander, he was a little worried. He knew Willow and the Watcher didn't have a chance in hell of finding them, but he wondered about Glory. She might be a couple bricks short, and she might have more interest in the _Shopping Channel_ then any actual godly-stuff, but she was, at the very bottom, a _god._

That meant she could do things nobody else could do. And just because she hadn't been able to find her key before didn't mean she couldn't now. Spike knew - he _knew_ -that the three of them disappearing might look funny, but he hoped that his torture and Xander's relative non-special status would just make her think they didn't want to get hurt. And that what she'd done to Tara would seem like a good reason for the Slayer to get her little sister out of harm's way. He hoped.

_Fuck this. No time for second guessing. We're - oh - halfway there maybe, if the roads hold out. It'll be fine. Just gotta get the call over with, get Harris checked out behind the wheel. Bastard had better not fuck up my car. Right._

Spike flicked his cigarette butt away - sauntered over to where Xander and Dawn were talking, leaning on the counter. "Powdered your nose then, Harris?" he asked, and smirked at Xander's baleful look. Xander held his left arm out, looking pointedly between the manacles and Spike. Spike looked back - raised his eyebrow.

"Spike -"

"What? Oh - oh, right." Laughing inwardly, Spike dug the key out and unlocked the right manacle - in a quick move _re_ -locked it around Xander's right wrist.

Harris gaped at him for a moment and then scowled furiously at him. "What the _hell_ do you think - Spike! Get these off me!"

"Not on your life, Harris. They're staying on 'til we get to where we're going. You'll live."

"You - you -" Xander spluttered, unable to find the words, and Spike just grinned at him.

Dawn looked uncomfortable. "Spike, don't you think -"

"Now Bit, we agreed; I'd handle Harris - do what I thought best. You know I can't hurt him, and we don't want him running to the nearest cop or phone and making a call, do we?"

Dawn bit her lip - looked at Xander, who was ready to explode, then at Spike who did his best to look reasonable. She sighed. "Yeah. Okay. We did. You're right." She looked over at Xander and shrugged - wandered away towards the car.

Xander did his best to throw his hands up in frustration, making a growling noise. "Arrrgh! Spike, this is some sort of - some sort of twisted -"

"Revenge? That what you're thinking?" Spike leaned in close - flicked a glance at Dawn who was going through the boot of the DeSoto, looking for something. He dropped his voice to a hiss. "Well, you're _right_. Chained me in that fuckin' tub, tied me in your fuckin' _chair_ \- get used to it Harris - I might just _lose_ the key for a while." Spike hadn't intended for there to be quite so much _venom_ in his voice, but it got away from him a little bit and Xander went white and stared at him, his mouth a little open. 

_Stupid bastard. Now just shut up._

He straightened up - reached and brushed imaginary lint from Xander's shirt. "Now - you probably need something to eat, yeah? And then we'll see if you can drive my car without wrecking it." Spike turned on his heel and went over to the car - pulled a baggie of blood from 'his' cooler and drained it. He heard Xander heave a sigh - shuffle over to the car.

"What's there to eat, Dawn?" he asked, and Spike fought a smile - hid it by rooting out more blood.

_Only a dozen bags left. But - plenty of livestock around where we're going. And some...Houses of Ill Repute, if I remember correctly._

Spike grinned to himself. Riley had discovered what a lot of humans before him had - it felt _good_ to get bitten by a vampire. And Spike knew of a few places along the way that catered to that. He could get a fresh meal _and_ some extra cash, if he was right. He'd been subtly testing the limits of the chip - trying a few things. It was...interesting. He was pretty sure he could bite a willing human and the chip would do nothing at all. Mind over matter, perhaps. Or - pheromones. Something. He didn't know, really, but discovering he could circumvent it, even a little, was exciting. 

_Not the same, not the same at **all** but it's better than nothing and it is **not** gonna be in there forever._

Xander had assembled a huge, sloppy sandwich from the stuff they'd gotten in Tucson and was wolfing it down. He looked to have actually dropped a couple of pounds during his magic sleep, and the planes of his face were a little more defined - a little sharper. His hair was tangled over his head - more fly-away than usual, hanging in his eyes and curling softly around the nape of his neck. Xander glanced up and saw him - made a sort of 'what' face.

"Just makin' sure you're all fit to travel, Harris," Spike lied, and went back to his blood. _Nothin' wrong with havin' a look-see. Who knows, he might turn out to be...entertaining. If he manages to get the stick out of his ass._

Xander shook his head and finished off his sandwich - awkwardly helped Dawn re-pack 'her' cooler and slammed the boot shut.

"What time is it? Is it time, Spike?"

Spike looked at Dawn - looked contemplatively at the light coming through the windows. "Yeah, I guess. Go ahead and get it over with, Dawn."

"Get what over with?" Xander asked, his voice thick with suspicion.

Dawn pulled her cell phone out of her jacket pocket. "I'm gonna call Mr. Giles, and then I'm gonna call B-buffy. Spike said I should call Mr. Giles first because he'll probably be a lot calmer."

Xander looked over at Spike and Spike shifted a little against the fender of the DeSoto. "Yeah, he's probably right."

Dawn nodded and carefully tapped in the number - waited nervously. The Watcher picked up on the second ring, and Spike could hear him quite clearly, although it was obvious Xander couldn't.

"Hello?"

"M-mr. Giles? It's me - it's Dawn."

Sharp intake of breath, and then: "Dawn? Oh good Lord - are you all right? Where are you?"

"I'm fine, Mr. Giles. I'm - I'm not telling you where I am. I'm safe, though. I'm not hurt."

"Dawn - please - you have to come home. If you're not - if what you said on the videotape was true, then please - just come home."

Dawn was silent for a moment, and she looked at Spike when she spoke next. "No - I won't. I'm sorry, Mr. Giles, I really am, but - this is the best way. I'm sure it is."

"You don't sound sure."

"I am. Xander's here - do you want to talk to him?"

"Well, yes, all right. Dawn - please be careful."

"I will - I am. Hang on." Dawn held the phone out to Xander who reached for it and then stopped - held his manacled hand up in frustration. He'd have to hunch to use the phone. Spike just shrugged and Xander took the phone with a scowl.

"Hello? Giles?"

"Xander - are you alright?"

"I'm fine, Giles, really -"

Spike tuned them out - went to pace the edges of the garage - look under the counter and in the corners for anything interesting. He found a newspaper that was a few months old and picked it up - scanned the headlines and then tossed it back down. Xander seemed to be finishing what he was saying and he walked back out.

Xander held the phone out to him. "He wants to talk to you."

Spike raised an eyebrow - took the phone. "Hullo, Rupert."

" _Spike_." There was a moment's silence, and then Giles took a hard breath. "Spike, if you dare - _dare_ \- to harm one hair -"

"You'll do what - mentally beat me? Give it a rest, Rupert. I wouldn't hurt Dawn for anything, and you know that. Or you bloody well _should_ by now. And I _can't_ hurt Harris, much as I might like to. They're both safe as houses."

"If they're in your company they're anything but. I really am having a hard time crediting _Dawn_ with this hare-brained scheme. I can't imagine what inducements you used -"

"Watcher -" Spike said, and the chill in his voice silenced the other man - made Xander look up from where he was surreptitiously fiddling with the manacles. "You can imagine all you like. I'm going to keep Dawn safe no matter what. I promised I would - you saw that I did. Use that brain of yours and _figure it out._ " 

Spike jabbed the _off_ button hard - resisted the urge to throw the phone across the garage. Instead he handed it silently to Dawn, who turned it back on to call her sister. Spike had _no_ desire to listen to Buffy, and he went to the far side of the garage where there were some lengths of old chain hanging down the wall. He distracted himself by pulling them apart, link by link, and was startled when Xander approached, phone once again held out.

"Buffy," he said, and glanced back over his shoulder at Dawn, who was hugging herself, leaning against the car and looking like she was crying. Spike compressed his mouth to a thin line - took the phone and nodded over at Dawn. Xander nodded back and went over to her, leaning close and talking quietly to her. Spike hesitated another moment, but he could hear Buffy's voice, calling him, and he finally lifted the phone to his ear.

"Spike? Are you there? Answer me, damnit!"

"Slayer."

"Spike, I - " Silence, and a sharply in-drawn breath. "You'd better not hurt her. Or _let_ her get hurt."

"You know I won't. Didn't give her up, did I? I promised, Slayer. She's safe."

Another moment of silence - soft breaths. "Keep her that way, Spike, or I swear - you'll _beg_ for me to dust you."

"Yeah." Spike hesitated - almost added something else, although _what_ , he had no idea. Instead he just turned the phone off.

_So. Slayer. I...it wasn't so bad. Her voice...._ Spike sighed. Her voice had made him cringe - made him melt, just a little. _Don't want to do this. I don't - I **won't** love her. Not anymore. Not now. Doing this for the Bit - for me. Show them...I can do it right._ He decided to _not_ examine the reasons why he'd want to show the Scoobies anything. 

Spike scrubbed his hand over his face - back through his hair. Time to show Xander how to work the DeSoto - give him a proper warning so he'd drive carefully. Spike was tired, and he wanted to curl up and sleep for the next eight hours or so. But he kind of doubted he would.

 

"Oh crap. Dawn, hang on." Xander pressed his foot down on the brake - gritted his teeth as the DeSoto juddered and bounced its way over yet another truly horrific stretch of dirt road. Driving with the chains was awkward as hell, and fighting with the wheel over washboards and axle-breaking potholes was making it even more difficult. Dawn held grimly onto the back of the seat and the dash, trying to brace herself. She looked a little green, and Xander had a pounding headache. 

Spike had grudgingly allowed that if Xander were going to drive they had to scrape some of the paint off the windows, and now there were clear patches in the windshield and driver and passenger windows. The sun was just low enough to shine through them and right into his eyes - high enough yet that it wasn't time to stop. But they were _going_ to stop, because Xander had had just about enough. He glanced in the rear-view mirror at the long hump that was Spike under a shiny silver camping blanket - thinner, lighter, and more sun-proof then the ratty woolen Army cast-offs he'd used in the past. _'My idea'_ , Dawn had said proudly, and Xander had raised his eyebrows - shaken his head. He just didn't get it.

_Why in hell does she like Spike so much? Why does she **trust** him? I mean, okay, she's been around him for years - he's always kind of **been** there.... She knows all about the Hellmouth and vampires and demons…. Maybe it's 'cause she's the key? Maybe she just...trusts him because he's keeping her safe?_ An Army truck jounced by going the other way, the back filled with soldiers. 

_Well, relatively safe._

The Mexican military was very - visible - here. There didn't seem to be any immediate threat, or any kind of action going on. They were just - around. The vestiges of the soldier in Xander idly identified the weapons the soldiers were carrying as Xander navigated a hairpin turn and another bone-cracking washboard. The DeSoto was a workhorse on these horrible roads - powerful and heavy enough to handle most of it. But it was by no stretch of the imagination a comfortable ride. Xander was amazed that Spike was actually able to sleep. As they came out of the turn, Xander could see a cluster of buildings up ahead and breathed a sigh of relief.

_Take a small break - get out - stretch.... Oh **fuck**. Fucking hell!_ Xander had, somehow, _forgotten_ that Spike had the keys to the manacles - to the padlock that kept the chains anchored to another stainless bolt in the _front_ of the car. He couldn't get out of the car - couldn't do anything.

"Fuck!"

"What?" Dawn looked nervous and Xander took a hard breath - tried to relax.

"I really need to take a break and Spike's got the damn key," Xander fumed, gripping the wheel tightly. Dawn shifted a little in her seat, looking over the back at Spike's motionless form. 

"Maybe I could -"

" _No_ , no - no need for that. We'll be stopping soon anyway. It's okay, Dawn." No way was Xander letting Dawn fish around for the keys. Xander had watched Spike click the padlock shut then watched him push the key down deep into his jeans-pocket. A pocket in jeans so tight that the outline of the key-ring had showed clearly against the denim. Along with...something else, and Xander had blinked and then looked away so fast he'd almost hurt himself. Spike had just chuckled, getting the blanket out of the trunk and getting comfortable in the back seat.

"You just take care of my babies, Harris," Spike had said, laughter in his voice.

They had taken _one_ pit stop around noon - Dawn insisted - but Xander hadn't actually had to -do - anything. But he'd consumed another sandwich and two more water bottles since then, and now he really just wanted to stop - ease the ache out of his shoulders and back and find a bathroom.

"What're we coming up on, Dawn?"

Dawn rooted around in her backpack - pulled out a series of print-outs that she'd stapled together. "Hmmm. Ok - we're...about - no, wait, that was...." Dawn flipped pages back and forth - squinted at her watch and stared out the window for a minute. "I'm pretty sure this is La Primavera. There's a spa here - Rio Caliente? There should be a sign. We're about - an hour from Guadalajara. That's where we stop tonight."

"An hour? Fuck." Xander shifted uncomfortably. _An hour. I can do an hour. Damn._ They went around another corner and suddenly they were in deep shadow - the sun was gone behind the mountains and he hastily pulled the DeSoto over onto the verge.

"Spike. Hey, Spike! Wake up!"

"M'awake, Harris."

There was a crinkling, and Xander watched in the mirror as the silvery blanket was slowly pushed back as Spike checked for sunlight. After a moment the blanket was pushed away more briskly and Xander felt Spike lean onto the back of the seat.

"This doesn't look like Guadalajara, Harris."

"That's 'cause it's _not_ , Spike. But I really, really need to take a break."

Spike snorted softly - his hand appeared and touched Dawn's shoulder. "How're you doin', Niblet?" he asked, and Dawn smiled.

"I'm okay - just kinda stiff. And hungry."

"We'll get a fancy meal in the city, yeah?"

"Yeah." Dawn sighed, and Xander looked over at her.

"What's up, Dawnie? And Spike - could you get with the unlocking, please?" He rattled the chains a little and Spike patted him on the head.

"Sure, Toto. Hang on."

Xander scowled as Spike opened the door and slid out. He looked back over at Dawn. "Dawn?"

"Oh - I just - I want to get a hotel room. I want to take a really looong shower and I want to sleep in a bed." Xander's door opened and Spike crouched down, key dangling from his fingers. "Can we Spike, _pleeease?_ Just one night?"

"Now Dawn, we made our plans -"

"But we can change them, Spike, we're not on a - a schedule!" Dawn dug into her backpack again while Spike unlocked the padlock and cleared the chain from the bolt. He stood up and backed away a little, looking up and down the deserted road. Xander swung both feet out of the car - scooted forward and slowly stood up. His whole body protested, and he groaned as cramps started in his calves again.  
"God _damnit_ \- oh, that hurts." Xander stretched gingerly - doubled up when a particularly nasty spasm caught him low across his back. "Ahhh! Oh, _ouch_ -" He leaned on the edge of the door and tried to get his hand around to massage it out but he couldn't.

Dawn scrambled over into his seat, looking out at him with wide eyes. "Xander, what's wrong? Are you okay?"

"Just - just a stitch in the muscles, Dawnie; my back's all fu- messed up from sitting for so long. I kinda hurt it on a site a couple months ago; it's not all the way better yet." Xander twisted gingerly, but that only made it worse, and he leaned his head on the door-frame and gritted his teeth, unable to do anything but ride it out. He started in surprise when he felt a pair of cool, _very_ strong hands on his back, pressing and kneading the muscles there.

"That the place, Harris?" Spike asked, and Xander straightened marginally, grimacing.

"Yeah, that's - oh, man...yeah." Xander couldn't help it - his eyes closed and he leaned his head back down, giving in. Spike's hands were so _strong_ \- much stronger then Anya's or Willow's - and the vampire was digging his thumbs in and working knotted muscle loose in practiced movements that were pleasurable agony. Or maybe just pleasure, since the chip didn't seem to be going off.

"Christ, Harris, it's like a sheet of iron down here." Spike leaned into him, kneading harder, and Xander stifled a groan.

"Are you hurting him? Xander?" Dawn's voice was anxious and Xander chuckled.

"No, he's not hurting me Dawn. It feels...man...feels good. Ah! Yeah..." Xander was uncomfortably aware that his moaning and groaning sounded a bit...well… _sexy_ was the only way to describe it. But it did feel that good. The 'burning rocks' feeling of knotted muscles gradually gave way to an overall warm glow and Xander finally lifted his head - straightened fully and then twisted a little, stretching as best he could. Spike's hands rested lightly on his hips, as if to start up again if he needed it.

"All better then?" Spike asked, and Xander looked at him over his shoulder.

He didn't really think about it, but he was smiling. "Yeah - _much_ better. Thanks."

Spike was looking at him - a funny sort of look of surprise and wariness. "C'mon - better take care of - everything else." Spike motioned vaguely towards the heavily overgrown verge and Xander abruptly remembered he needed to pee.

"Right." He held his wrist out, waiting for Spike to undo the manacle, and was stunned when Spike unlocked the right one and then the left one - and then crouched down and undid the ones on his ankles. He stood up and slung the chains over his shoulder.

"Go on then." Xander stared at him for a moment, blinking - then he grinned and shuffled around the open car-door, heading for a clump of jungle-looking foliage that he hoped would screen him from Dawn. Behind him, he heard the chains clink and then Dawn:

"Thanks, Spike."

"Sure Niblet. You tell him he'd better behave, though, or back they go."

"Right. Look, Spike, we're only - only six-hundred miles from...." Dawn's voice faded as Xander walked further away and he looked back over his shoulder. She was engrossed in showing something to Spike, not paying any attention to him - although Spike, Xander noticed, was keeping his eye on him. The vampire lit up a cigarette and blew smoke towards him - looked back at Dawn.

_Weird. Wonder why he took them off? Not gonna question it 'cause, thank God! But...I wonder.... Fuck it. I'm just glad they're gone. And oh man, that was the best massage I have **ever** had. Who knew? He should have gotten a job doing that in Sunnydale - he'd have had a line around the block._

Xander stretched and twisted, reveling in the looseness of his back muscles, and reached down to undo the button and zipper on his jeans. 

_Feels too good to spend the whole night in the damn car. Talk him into stopping, Dawnie! I want a shower too - and a sit-down meal - and...another shower and maybe we can find a hotel with a laundry…._ Xander finished - jumped back a little, startled, as something rustled in the thick, green plants that rioted just a few feet away. There was a strange sort of noise - like a gear being ratcheted, and something rocketed away through the underbrush. Xander drew in a startled breath and hurried back to the car.

"Somethin' up?" Spike asked, his eyes glinting gold in the twilight as he looked over Xander's shoulder towards the dark jungle.

"Huh? Oh - uh, no, I don't - I guess not. Just a bird or something." Xander pushed his fingers back through his hair and grimaced at the lank, greasy feeling. "So, we're gonna stop and see the sights for a night, huh Spike? Get a hot shower, get some good food - big bed to stretch out on...." He grinned at Dawn, who grinned back. "A big city like that - they'll have cable. You could catch up on 'Passions' I bet."

Dawn snickered, shoving her papers away and Spike narrowed his demon's eyes at Xander - pointedly blew a lungful of smoke at him. "I already decided we needed to stop. I'm outta blood, anyway. Guadalajara's got some...places I can use."

"Oh. Great!" Xander bounced a little - put his arms up over his head and stretched hard, arching his back and twisting a little and then relaxing back to a normal posture. "Let's get going!"

Spike was still staring at him but a moment later he flicked his cigarette away and slung the chains into the back seat. "I'll drive the rest of the way - sun's down behind the mountains now."

"Okay. Dawn, you need to -?" Xander made a gesture with his hand and Dawn flushed a little.

"Uh - yeah. There isn't anything - _big_ in the trees, is there?" She looked over at the jungle, biting her lip.

"Nah. Just birds and things. I could tell if anything big was out there. You're safe," Spike said.

Dawn looked skeptical but she grabbed the roll of toilet paper from under the seat and walked towards the back of the car - kept walking a little further. Xander and Spike both watched her until she got part way behind a big, flowering bush.

"Don't look! Just turn around!" Dawn called, and they obediently turned.

"Hey - Spike." Xander said, and the vampire looked over at him. "Thanks for - taking those off. I appreciate it."

Spike shrugged, looking away. "Just be sure and behave, Toto, or the leash goes back on."

"Don't be such a jerk, Spike." Xander kicked at a rock in the road - glared up at the sky, which was streaked with clouds and dyed in vivid shades of scarlet and vermillion and lemon. A beautiful sky - breathtaking you might say - if you didn't have to share it with an undead demon from hell. Xander scowled over at Spike's profile. 

_Jerk._

"Same to you, Harris," Spike snapped, and Xander had to look away to hide the twitching of his mouth. Despite the chains - and the crazed scheme - and the sleeping dust, Xander was actually rather...relaxed, anymore. He'd finally realized something. Spike really would do anything at all to keep Dawn safe, and even if this was part of some grander plan to worm his way closer to Buffy's heart, Xander at least respected his desire to make sure Glory got nowhere near Dawn. And Dawn…

Xander sighed. She was just a kid - _sort of_ \- but she _liked_ Spike. And she trusted him. And Xander had decided, until proven otherwise, to trust _her._

_Might just be magic, like I thought - the monks programmed in something so she'd go to the person who was able to keep her safe no matter what. And even though Buffy wants to be that person...she just can't, not while she still has to deal with Glory. This - this could actually work._

 

 

Guadalajara was _big_ , and Xander was glad it was Spike who was driving - Spike who threaded their way through crowded streets and shouted things at other drivers who passed on the right, didn't use brakes or signals and totally ignored traffic lights and signs. Xander had as much Spanish as any other self-respecting SoCal boy, but he hadn't been aware that Spike was fluent - and seemed to have as thorough a command of swears in Spanish as English.

Finally, they pulled up into a parking lot by a huge hotel, the _Hotel Fénix_. Spike and Xander hauled everything out of the trunk and lugged it inside, Dawn trailing behind, staring around. The hotel was nice - colorful inside with plants and plushy furnishings. While Spike leaned on the counter and got them adjoining rooms, Dawn wandered the lobby, looking at the things in the gift shop and watching the traffic and pedestrians going by outside. She picked up a couple of glossy brochures and a printed map that showed how many attractions were in walking distance of the hotel - a lot, apparently. Xander just slumped in a chair, feeling the stiffness and weariness of a long drive creep over him. He didn't care that it was only around seven o'clock - he wanted something hot to eat, a shower, and a bed, in that order.

Finally Spike came over, sliding a little paper folder into his pocket. "C'mon, Bit - we're on the fifth floor." He slung his duffle over his shoulder and hoisted the stacked coolers - Xander grabbed his own bag and Dawn's and they made their way upstairs.

The rooms were nice - high ceilings and dark blue carpet, two double beds in each room and little balconies that showed a view of the street, _Avenida Corona_. Dawn stood on her balcony and breathed deeply, smiling. It was close to eighty degrees and Xander knew she was thinking of the pool in the hotel's inner courtyard.

After a moment she turned and picked up her carry-all and slung it on the bed - unzipped it. "I'll have to buy a swimsuit - I didn't bring one, I wasn't - wasn't really thinking about swimming. There was a clothing store down in the lobby -" Dawn turned to Spike, a hopeful look on her face, and Spike leaned in the doorway that connected the rooms, smiling at her.

"Sure, Bit. Tell you what - you run down and get what you need and me and Harris'll get something from the kitchen, right? What d'you want?"

Dawn perused the room-service menu, asking Spike what different things were and Xander spent a little time on the other balcony, just watching the traffic and people go by below. 

_I've never been this far from home. I wonder what Anya's doing? Probably mad at me, no matter what Giles and Buffy tell her. Wish I could talk to her._

Spike had made it clear that the two phone calls a day were to be made to Giles and Buffy only, and that only Dawn would talk if possible. He didn't seem eager to talk to Buffy at all, which Xander thought was strange. Spike had also made it clear that if anybody wanted to talk to Xander, they'd just have to be around when Dawn made her calls. So far, Anya hadn't been around, but Xander couldn't really imagine anyone had told her much beyond the bare essentials. Neither Giles nor Buffy would want Anya at their house, waiting for a phone call.

_I hope Tara is okay... Dawn said they might have a line on a spell to...get her back. Fuck, I hope it works. Tara doesn't deserve that...doesn't deserve to be pulled into all this crap... Hell, none of us do._

He turned around and leaned on the railing, watching Spike pull some bills out of his pocket and hand them to Dawn - watching Dawn mooch a couple more in the time-honored teen tradition and then give Spike a quick kiss on the cheek. As she bounced out of the room, Spike looked after her with a look of fondness and longing that made Xander go still.

_He looks like...heh...like a real boy, almost. When he's with her. What is it about Dawn that makes him the most human? Maybe it's because...she's the only one of us that treats **him** the most human._

Xander shook his head - turned to look back out over the city and only jumped a little bit when Spike yelled his name, telling him to pick something from the menu and call room service.

 

Food, a long hot shower and couple of hours of Spanish-language TV put Xander and Dawn to sleep before eleven. Spike had gone out long since, for blood and to _'get the lay of the land'_ , as he said. Xander hoped muzzily that he wouldn't get into any fights or forget where they were staying, since he had taken all the money with him. Xander slept, heavy and dreamless, and woke with a start sometime later, disoriented. He lay in the bed for a moment, blinking up into the blackness then rolled over to look at the clock. Five forty-five a.m. He wondered if Spike were back.

He got up and maneuvered himself carefully to the bathroom, squinting in the light that flickered on over the sink. He used the toilet and got a drink - checked the other bed. No vampire. He pulled on a pair of jeans and went to the connecting door that they'd left partially ajar and looked in on Dawn. She'd left her curtains open and the distant glow of the city center limned her faintly in a silvery grey. 

Xander turned his TV on for a few minutes - turned it off again. Early-morning programming in Mexico was no more exciting than it was in California. Feeling restless, he got up and lugged Spike's cooler into the bathroom and drained out the water and the last of the ice. One lone blood packet floated there, and he lay it on the tub rim while he dried the cooler out. Then he got Dawn's cooler and did the same thing, putting the depleted packages of cold-cuts, cheese, bread and fruit on the counter by the sink. He got the room key and took Dawn's cooler down the hall for ice, then repacked it back at the room and tossed Spike's blood on top. Then he sorted through the clothes in his bag and made a pile of laundry and a pile of clean stuff, and re-packed the clean stuff.

Then he stood on the balcony and fretted, wondering when the sun would come up and when Spike would arrive. He'd been outside for about ten minutes - and seen the sky lighten perceptibly - when a pale-haired figure appeared far up the street, walking with that distinctive, loose-hipped strut that Xander would know anywhere. He watched Spike walk along the avenue, passing in and out of streetlights, smoking a cigarette and drinking from a bottle. 

When he was directly below the hotel, Spike looked up and Xander was sure the vampire saw him. As Xander watched, he drained the bottle and tossed it towards a trash-bin and then sauntered on, disappearing into the building. Xander turned around and waited, watching the door, and after a few minutes it opened and Spike slipped inside. He ghosted over to Dawn's room and looked in for a moment, then joined Xander on the balcony.

"Harissss...." Spike said, and he stood there, swaying slightly. His eyes were absolutely black - pupils dilated as far as they would go. His hair was mussed out of its usual order, and stood up in soft spikes. And there was a bruise on his jaw - on his throat. Most noticeable, though, was the smear of blood across his lower lip and chin.

Xander felt a faint, unpleasant lurch in his belly. "What'd you do tonight, Spike?"

"Me? Oh, I...." Spike smiled slowly, suddenly all fangs, and Xander tried to back away - felt the balcony rail behind him and froze. "I...glutted myself tonight, Harris...fed until I was almost sick. Fucked until I was sore." Spike reached up and wiped ineffectively at his mouth - lowered his hand, watching Xander closely.

Xander knew Spike could hear his heart pounding - could smell the sweat. "Yeah? How'd you - do that, Spike?"

"Oh, it was _easy_ , Harris. Just had to find a few of 'em that were...willing. If the flesh is willing -" Spike's human face came back, and he tapped the side of his head. "If the flesh is willing, then the spirit - doesn't do sod all." He giggled softly - clumsily took off his duster and flung it at Xander's bed, where it hit the edge and slithered to the floor. He lifted his right foot and yanked his boot off - almost fell. Tossed the boot aside and took off the left. No socks. Then he lifted the hem of his t-shirt and took that off as well. Xander gasped. There were bruises over Spike's ribs and shoulders - bloody scratches. Spike looked down at himself and giggled again.

"Be gone by morning. I can feel it, all the blood. Rushing through me - making me whole again. No worries, pet." He undid his belt and then his jeans - peeled them off and sent them flying after his t-shirt. There were more bruises - distinctly finger-shaped ones on his hips, and Xander stared at them - lifted his horrified gaze to Spike's face.

" _Spike!_ " He tried to keep his voice low. "What in hell _happened?_ What's going on?"

"Oh, Harris, don't be such a...wanker. Just a few bruises. You 'member what Captain Cardboard was doin', right before he left?" Spike turned and leaned on the railing next to Xander and Xander nervously crossed his arms over his bare chest, trying not to look down at Spike. The vampire seemed completely oblivious to the fact that he was standing on a balcony, _(next to another guy!)_ totally nude.

"Yeah. That - that thing with the vampires - letting them...bite him."

"Right. That's right. Know why he did that?"

"'Cause he's a total fuckin' moron? You tell me, Spike." Spike stared at Xander for a moment, his eyes huge and rather hurt looking. _Manga-look. Stop that, Spike, and tell me what the fuck is going on. You're freaking me out._

"He let them _do_ that 'cause it felt _good_. Vamp bite - feels like - well, let's just say it feels almost as good as a nice, hard fuck. But -" Spike held up his hand, one finger raised, and Xander saw the ring of abraded flesh and more bruises around his wrist. "But, if you _combine_ the two - bite _and_ sex - you get...bloody Nirvana." Spike grinned and leaned back over the balcony rail, arching his back in a smooth, impossible curve, and Xander wanted to grab him by the shoulders and fling him inside before he fell.

"So - you're saying...you got bit and had sex? I don't get it."

"No, no, _no_ , bloody hell, boy, aren't you listening? I didn't get bit, I _did_ the biting. And some of the fucking, too." Spike laughed softly, straightening back up, and Xander recoiled slowly, glancing nervously at the doorway into the room.

"You - you got - is the chip -?" Spike sighed dramatically - put his hand on Xander's shoulder and leaned into him, his face inches away. He smelled of whiskey and cigarettes and blood and...an underlying musk; sweet and thick and slightly rank. Xander froze, not daring to move.

"You're not _listening_ , mate. I went to the place - whorehouse, you'd call it. Where humans, like _you_ -" Spike poked Xander in the sternum. "And like _Riley_ , come to get a bite. Get the ride of a fuckin' lifetime. This bloody chip.... Like I said...if the flesh is willing...I can _feed_."

Spike's face shifted, and Xander stared at the demon's face that was inches from his own. He thought his heart might just pound right out of his chest. 

"You - if they want it, you can bite them? Did you - you didn't _kill_ -"

"Christ, Harris!" Spike threw his hands up in frustration, morphing back to human and catching himself on the rail, unsteady. "I was at a _place of business_. I _was_ the business! I drank their wonderful, scalding-hot, full-of-life _blood_ and I _fucked_ them and I got _paid_ for it! Made... I don't remember how much I made. 'Nough to last a while. And I can go back oh, anytime. Go back tomorrow night." Spike looked down at the balcony floor - scuffed at the polished concrete with his bare foot. His left hand absently circled his right wrist and rubbed gently, and Xander saw the matching abrasions there.

"Looks like you got fucked a bit too, Spike. That part of the package? Let them hurt you?"

Spike shrugged, his face suddenly going blank. "Pays extra, Harris. An'... he didn't hurt me much. He was on somethin', that last bloke. I feel...." Spike scrubbed his hands furiously back through his hair - looked at Xander with an expression that was mingled pain and bravado. "Ride of a fuckin' lifetime for that wanker." He lurched forward suddenly - stumbled into the room and flopped down on Xander's rumpled bed - pushed his face into the depression Xander's head had left in the pillow. "Tired, Harris. So tired."

Xander stood for a moment longer against the rail - finally went inside and looked down at Spike - at the long sweep of back and buttock and thigh that was mottled with bruises and a few scratches. Bruises that were fading, sure, but that were _there_ , all the same. "What was he on, Spike? Spike?"

Spike didn't answer - seemed asleep or unconscious, and Xander waited another minute then sighed and pulled the covers out from under the prone figure - pulled them up over Spike's shoulders and smoothed them. Then he turned and shut the curtains tightly and walked gingerly around to Spike's bed, tripping a little over the discarded clothes. He pulled off his jeans and climbed in - tugged and twisted to get the chaotic covers under control. Then he lay down, surrounded by the sweet-musk-smoke smell that was Spike, and tried hard not to think. He'd think about this in the morning, maybe. Or maybe not at all. He wasn't sure why the thought of Spike selling himself for blood made him so uncomfortable.

_Sold himself to **us** , didn't he? Only we didn't ask him to fuck us...we just ask him to bleed for us. And then didn't pay him, half the time. And let Buffy beat on him.... Why should this feel wrong when that didn't? That… **should** have - we're supposed to be the white hats. At least this is his choice...except, with that chip, he really doesn't **have** a choice, does he? Sell something or starve. At least these people **want** him...when did we ever do more than tolerate him?_

Xander didn't like that voice - the practical voice, the voice that said things he wouldn't dare admit out loud. "I don't like this at all," he murmured to himself, curling over on his side and burrowing down under the covers. Maybe in the morning it would all seem...different. Eventually, he fell asleep.

They stayed two weeks in Guadalajara. It was just too _good_. Spike hadn't felt this sated - this _content_ \- in over a year. The fresh blood - _human_ blood - revitalized him, made him feel as he had before, and he didn't want to give it up. Finally, he asked the owner if there were any blood houses in Veracruz and the vampire gave him two names and a promise of a recommendation if he needed it. Spike chose to ignore the _looks_ Xander gave him - the looks of mingled disgust and curiosity and...was that _worry?_ that made Spike want to just slap him - or give him a demonstration. But he doubted _that_ flesh would ever be willing, and so he restrained himself.

Dawn was having a blast. Swimming half the day, walking the few blocks down to the market and shopping to her heart's content - practicing her Spanish with a phrase-book and an atrocious accent on any victim in sight. Xander spent his days mostly with Dawn; shadowing her on her shopping trips and lazing in the sun around the pool. His skin tanned a few shades darker and his hair took on reddish highlights. Spike liked to watch them from inside the hotel - Dawn as brown and sleek as an otter, diving off the side and knifing through the water, or lounging on a chaise, reading a magazine. Xander would stretch out on his back or stomach and read a book - some pulp mystery from the hotel lobby - and occasionally do a cannonball or equally splashy, disruptive thing in the pool, wetting Dawn or chasing her down and ducking her.

_That's how she should be. Laughing and glowing - not all scared, not all...beaten. How's she's **gonna** be, every minute she's here._

News from Sunnydale was good and bad. Willow had found and successfully performed a spell to take Tara's self back from Glory, and the loss had weakened the Hellgod enough that Buffy was able to beat her into submission with the Troll hammer they'd kept from an earlier, less successful Willow spell. 

But Glory had been put into a human boy's body in an effort to contain her and when she was beaten she reverted to him. To _Ben_ , for fuck's sake, the nurse who'd helped Buffy and Dawn so much when Joyce was sick. So of course, the Slayer couldn't kill him - wouldn't let the Watcher do it, either - and when Glory recovered she came bursting right back out. Missing the ritual had weakened her a little - or the Dagon Sphere had - but she was still tough and ruthless and surrounded by sycophants who would do anything to please her. Still a threat, since she still lusted for 'her' key. Spike had heard the defeat in Buffy's voice the last time Dawn had talked to her. She had finally admitted that Dawn was safer far away and that she'd have to stay away until they figured out what to do, since the easiest option - killing mortal Ben - was forever out of their reach.

However good Guadalajara was, Spike was anxious to get to Veracruz. To find a place and settle down - to _nest_. He didn't like the impermanence of the hotel, and the proximity of strangers who were too close and too curious. He wanted a little villa, like he and Dru had had in Brazil, or a private house off the main streets. He had almost eighty thousand pesos in a lockbox in his cooler - not a lot, but enough to get a few months rent somewhere. Maybe, if the blood house in Veracruz was as busy, he'd make enough to buy a place. He had connections here still; he just had to revive them - work them a little. His reputation was untarnished here, and that made things easier.

The longer he spent in the hotel, the more the feeling came over him that he didn't really _want_ there to be a solution to the 'Glory Problem'. He was...enjoying himself. Blood, and sex, and companionship; almost what he'd had with Dru - with the Family - so long ago. Harris might not approve of him, but disapproval was nothing compared to the constant threats and physical beatings that the Slayer had handed out. And he was _more_ than happy to live without being endlessly dragooned into stultifying 'research parties' where he would be alternately reviled, ignored, or called down by the Watcher. And Buffy's utter disgust - he could go forever without experiencing _that_ again. 

Dawn.... Dawn _liked_ him. Dawn trusted him, and it made him feel.... _No point going into that. Just...._ Just get them safely to Veracruz, get a place... He hadn't let himself dwell on it too much, but in Sunnydale, rumors had hinted that down here, there was someone who might be able to do something permanent about the chip. And that right there put him on edge every day they weren't going east.

On the fourteenth day he'd chivvied Dawn and Xander into going over a couple blocks to do laundry and buy supplies, and then they'd left, heading east and south, Xander driving them carefully over one of the last decrepit roads they'd have to take to get them to the Gulf coast.

 

Veracruz was much like he remembered - tall palms and banana trees, wide roads; the stately Colonial architecture made much less formal by adobe and soft pastel colors. Cafes and coffee shops and dozens of markets. The smell of the sea and vanilla and the mingled scents of exotic spices, crowded humanity; a different, richer earth. Dawn liked it right away, and even Xander seemed to be pleased with it and Spike felt something that had been drawn tight and hard in him relax. It was going to be okay.


	2. Chapter 2

_Dear Witchy Woman -_   
_You're right - it's hard to believe it's been three months. It's been a **weird** three months.... But also good. Dawn is just fine. She's really…. This has all changed her so much. But in a good way! Let me hasten to add, in a good way! It's like she's...grown up a little. It's hard to explain. She's just not so whiney anymore. Not so much with the teen angst thing. I don't know if it's just that there's less stress on her here, or something else._

Xander paused in his letter-writing and picked up his cup of _tejate_. It was cool, creamy, and chocolaty, and Xander had become addicted. It looked a bit odd: sort of greyish, sort of chunky, with foam on top. Once Spike had assured him it had no demon components, he'd given it a try.

And it went down like a dream.

He took a long sip and sighed in pleasure, then looked back at the email he was slowly pecking out. Who'd have thought they'd have cybercafés in Mexico? And who'd have _ever_ thought that he would be sitting in one? Xander grinned to himself and adjusted the keyboard a little. Spike had said 'no' to regular mail - it took too long, and there were those tell-tale postmarks that could give them away. So Dawn had suggested email and gotten Willow's address during the next phone call, and a little tutorial on the best place to get a web-based account. So now he and Dawn both had an email address. Dawn used hers every day to download lesson plans from Sunnydale High - it was that or be held back a grade. Willow and Buffy had concocted a story about her father; illness, and a long visit and the school had bought it. Dawn had grumbled, but Xander knew that little bit of home made her happy.

Xander only did mail once a week - he couldn't type very fast and was still a little leery of doing something that would mess up his account. That and...he just didn't have too much to say. He couldn't talk in detail about where they were - some of the really neat things they'd seen. He didn't _want_ to talk in detail about Spike, or what the vampire was doing to finance them. And Dawn emailed plenty about herself, so there wasn't anything to say there. 

Willow asked him every email how he was doing and Xander just didn't know what to tell her. So he told her nothing but the sort of 'I'm fine' platitudes that didn't satisfy either of them. But he wasn't going to admit that he was enjoying himself. That he _liked_ it here, and that he liked being with Dawn...and with Spike. Xander shook his head and turned his attention back to the screen.

_The people who live next door have become real friends - Dawn goes over every day to hang out with the daughter. They're 'Spike approved', whatever that means. Basically they're nice people who don't pry into the oddity of a very young 'sister and brother' living alone with this weird, nocturnal English guy. Thank God. Not so good with convincing explanations, I'm thinking, no matter what I could come up with._

_Tomorrow is some sort of big dance-thing here, something Dawn and her friend have been planning for weeks. Spike is even teaching her some dance steps and what he calls 'party manners'. And you haven't seen surreal until you've seen a vampire get down and dirty about which fork to use. Dawn really -_

There Xander paused. _'Dawn really…'_ what? Loves Spike? Looks up to him? Trusts him? All of those things and more, Xander was sure. And Xander knew _why_. It wasn't an infatuation thing - she didn't have a crush on him, or - not much of one, anymore. It was because…

Because of how Spike treated her. He _deferred_ to her. Not in any kind of creepy way, but.... Take the kitchen. Dawn had gotten very excited about decorating it. But Dawn got excited about a lot of stuff, and Xander hadn't really paid attention. But _Spike_ had spent half the day talking to her about it and pacing around the kitchen and jotting notes in his thin, upright handwriting. Then he told Xander to take Dawn shopping and be sure to get _exactly_ what they'd decided. Xander had done it with a shrug and a frown but when they'd staggered back home, weighted down under a couple gallons of paint, dishware, some lumber for shelves and other things, Dawn had been hyper - bouncing around and insisting they finish it _now, tonight._

Spike had just smiled at her and helped open paint - basically told Xander they'd be up all night if need be. And they had, but it had been fun, and the kitchen was pretty; all greens and golds and browns, with green-glass dishes and paper blinds that made the brilliant morning sunlight a warm golden glow. Spike had hugged Dawn and told her they should have company over - show off her talents, and Dawn had preened. Xander had just watched them, feeling….

_Jealous._

After that, Dawn went to Spike with ideas - with plans. Schemes to go here or there, ideas to make their house nicer or the yard prettier or to plot some activity that Spike could join in on. And Spike _listened_ ; listened to her with a seriousness and a grave attention that wasn't patronizing. That wasn't the _'listen and then she'll go away'_ kind of dismissiveness that Xander knew even _he_ was guilty of. 

Spike didn't just _give in_ to her, though - oh no. They'd had a few screaming arguments where Xander had simply sat and stared, utterly dumbfounded by Dawn's ability to goad Spike into a snarling fury and Spike's knack for reducing Dawn to quivering hysteria.

But the funny thing about _that_ was - Xander took another sip of his drink - the funny thing was, afterwards they were fine with each other. It wasn't like his family, where arguments smoldered and seethed for days, for weeks - hell, _years_. Just waiting to break out in some new and ugly way. Another reason Xander had spent Christmases on the lawn: to escape the furious battles that would inevitably happen after one too many cups of high-octane eggnog had been consumed.

_I **am** jealous. Of...their friendship. I feel alone out here. I wish...._

But Xander stopped that thought dead in its tracks, because wishing.... Well, it wasn't a good idea, even if you _weren't_ on the Hellmouth. He went back to his email.

_Dawn really took to all the 'lessons'... She said it made her feel like a real lady._

_I'm fine. I'm working now, part time. Doing carpenter work, finishing stuff. Not what I'm used to, but I'm learning some neat new skills and it's money in my pocket, which is definitely of the good. Tell everyone that I said hello, and that I miss them. But especially you, Willow. Take care of yourself, okay?_

_Love and special hugs -_   
_Xander_

 

Xander hit 'send' - watched as the mail program did its thing and confirmed the mail was gone. There wasn't anybody else - Giles refused to have a computer, and Buffy didn't have time for more than short notes to Dawn. Anya... Xander sighed and shut the computer down. Anya had been confused about his leaving. Then a little angry. Then indifferent, as she'd decided to experience life as a single girl. Xander hadn't actually heard from her in...two months. It had hurt, that so-fast switch from what had been nearly love to - nothing at all.

_But...kind of expected. When your relationship starts with one person stripping down and handing over a condom so they can get you 'out of their system', you can't really expect...true love. And let's just be honest here and say it wouldn't have ever been true love. Not when…._

He chugged the last half-inch of his drink and got up, tossing the cup into the trash on his way out. Not finishing that thought. He needed to get some food, get home; it was his night to cook. He and Dawn were taking turns, learning how to make palatable meals with the dizzying array of fresh food from the markets. Here, processed food was more expensive, and Xander had quickly realized that buying the food he was used to was a waste of money. Besides, he'd discovered he liked cooking. It made him feel like he was contributing something. Doing something useful, making the place more - homey.

_It **is** home. More than the basement ever was - or that damn expensive apartment Anya talked me into. It's…._ Something else Xander didn't let himself dwell on for too long. That he felt more at home with the evil undead and a girl who wasn't really a girl - was disturbing, on some level. And it felt a little disloyal. He was sure if Buffy had been in this situation that she would never be happy with it - never settle into a routine, or relax. But he couldn't help himself. Even though he sometimes felt left out when Dawn and Spike bonded over the insane intricacies of Mexican _telenovelas_ or early-morning pancake feasts, he was.…

_Happy. Isn't that nuts? Happier than I've been in a long time. Happy without Anya, which...which makes me feel the guilt in a whole new way. Who'd have thought ten minutes innocent conversation with Larry could make things weird two years later?_

Xander stood on the curb, staring at the traffic, thinking.

_I'm happy because...I'm not hiding, here. I'm being more...myself...than I have been in a long time. Being a big brother makes me...forget I'm not the Slayer. Being around Spike...._ Xander stumbled as the crowd behind him moved and he stepped off the curb and crossed the street. Another thought he wasn't going to follow to its conclusion, even though he found himself thinking about it more and more.

He turned right and headed down to the market to get some fresh tomatoes and the sweet, dark-purple peppers Dawn liked to have in her salad. They'd adopted the local custom of the 'big' meal in the middle of the day - and usually a nap afterwards. Even Spike sometimes roused himself and came out to eat, but not often. Xander paused, his hand hovering over a plump mango.

Lately Spike had not looked good at all. Even with his near-nightly infusions of human blood, there were dark circles under his eyes and his skin seemed nearly translucent, it was so pale. He seemed - out of it, a lot. Not drunk, like he had been in Sunnydale from time to time; drunk and furious and sarcastic. Now he seemed - dazed. He barely spoke, some days, and stumbled around the house as if he were half asleep. It made Xander uneasy.

He chose a few more things and headed home, thinking in a distracted way about what to make for lunch, what was wrong with Spike, what it was he _felt_ for Spike and if he should do something about it. But he didn't come to any satisfactory conclusions by the time he walked through their little gate and up to the front door. He found a note from Dawn, telling him she was next door - she'd have lunch there - and he trotted over for a minute to make sure everything was all right. Following a Spike-rule, but he didn't mind. 

Dawn just rolled her eyes at him and her friend Serafina giggled, looking at him from under her lashes. Xander shrugged and smiled - went home again to put the food away, and put some leftover fish in the oven to reheat. He cut up a few vegetables on a plate - put a little bowl of flavored oil with them to dip and put the kettle on to boil. He shed his short-sleeved shirt, feeling overheated in the kitchen, leaving on a white A-line. Then he went warily to see if Spike wanted to get up.

 

Xander stood in the doorway to Spike's room and watched the vampire for a few moments. The room was all dark reds and ambers with rose-amber paper blinds behind heavier curtains that made the whole space a dim, garnet cave. Dawn's doing, and Spike seemed to like it well enough. Spike moved sporadically, his hands twisting in the sheet, his eyebrows drawn down in a scowl. Xander and Dawn had both learned early on that to walk over and shake his shoulder - touch him at all - was a bad idea. He reacted instantaneously and violently and getting hurt was bad enough; they then had to deal with a Spike whose mood was beyond foul, having been woken by a jolt from the chip. So they'd learned to stand in the doorway to his room and call him.

_Do all vampires do that, or just Spike? He always looks like he's having nightmares…._ The usual corollary - that the evil undead _deserved_ nightmares - didn't follow. Xander suddenly hoped Spike _would_ wake up, because he really wanted to talk to him.

"Hey Spike - Spike? Lunchtime. Wanna get up and have some fish? Spike?" The vampire went still suddenly and then Spike sat up _fast_ , demon-gold eyes flickering around the room and settling on Xander. A moment of tense scrutiny and then Spike relaxed and stretched himself - a hard, arching stretch that made every muscle and bone on his upper body stand out in relief and made the thin sheet he slept under slip down to the tops of his thighs. Xander did his best to keep his eyes on Spike's face, although he couldn't help a quick check for fresh bruises.

_**And** something else. Let's not fool ourselves, here - your day wouldn't be complete without a little mental grope of the evil undead._

Xander shifted uncomfortably against the doorjamb, frowning. But it was true. He _looked_ at Spike - a lot - and that was something else he was unhappy about. 

Spike eased out of his stretch and cocked his head, listening or scenting, Xander wasn't sure. "Where's the Bit?"

"Next door. She left a note, and yes I went over. She's fine. Want some of that fish we had?" 

Spike pushed his hands back through his hair, considering. Xander never told him that it didn't do a bit of good; when Spike woke up, his hair was always tousled out of the rigid style imposed by the hair-gel, and it wouldn't lie flat again until Spike showered and re-did it. But Xander liked how it looked like this; soft spikes all over his head, a few stray locks curling over his ears and sometimes over the scarred eyebrow. Like today. Xander smiled a little, letting himself _look_ at that for a moment and then snapped back to neutral as Spike said something.

"Huh?"

A roll of expressive eyes, and Spike repeated himself slowly. "I said, is there any of that soup left, Harris?"

"Oh - oh yeah, sure." Spike nodded and flung the sheet back, standing up and doing another stretch by the side of the bed and Xander faded back from the doorway before he could embarrass himself, carrying the mental image of Spike's long, lean body with him to the kitchen.

The soup was a tortilla soup, bought at the market from a plump little man with an alarming mustache. It smelled so good heating up that Xander decided to have a bowl for himself. He leaned against the stove, watching the flames flicker under the pot and thinking about how he was going to get Spike to talk. A lie would probably be best.

_Except I'm not too good at that, so a...semi-lie. That'll work_

A minute later,Spike ghosted in, silent in bare feet, heading straight for the kettle and the tea-things. He was wearing the loose, striped-cotton pants Dawn had bought him. They were so _not_ the Big Bad, but Xander had to admit he was secretly pleased that Dawn had gotten a size too large and that Spike habitually wore them with the drawstring barely tied and without a shirt. Of course, that was a distraction Xander could have done without today, but….

_I'll live. Oh fuck. Cuts on his back. Damnit...._

Xander frowned suddenly, his pleasure at Spike's state of undress effectively quashed by the wounds. They were long, shallow, and regular. In other words - not from fighting. The guy that had roughed Spike up in Guadalajara had friends and they apparently liked the same sort of thing. Spike sprawled down in a chair and lit a cigarette, seemingly watching the smoke as it drifted up and then was swirled away into nothing by the big, sail-bladed fan they'd put in the kitchen ceiling.

Xander ladled out soup, got the fish out of the oven and settled into his own chair. They ate in silence for a few minutes, and then Xander mentally steeled himself and looked up at Spike. "Hey Spike...?"

"What?" Spike dipped a long slice of pepper into the oil and crunched it - licked his fingers.

Xander blinked. "Listen, I wanted to ask you something."

When Xander didn't say anything else, Spike paused with another piece of pepper halfway to his mouth. He looked at Xander, oil streaking down his fingers. "Well, out with it Harris. What is it?"

"It's just - I was...." _Jesus! Just spit it out._ Xander coughed - tried again. "Well, not so much me as _Dawn_ was...well... She's worried about you, Spike."

Now it was Spike's turn to blink, and he slowly moved the pepper to his mouth and slowly crunched it down, his eyes off in the far distances again. "Bit's worried about me? Worried about what?"

"Well - about.... About how you look. And - act, sometimes. You don't look - healthy. And you wander around in this daze.... She's just - a little freaked out. I told her it wasn't anything. Told her you were just - staying out too late...drinking too much." The last thing was total inspiration that Xander had tacked on, because Dawn was a child of her generation and was fanatical about the whole drugs and drinking thing. 

She didn't like it when Spike drank, but she had come to the conclusion that vampires could drink without the same consequences that humans had to face. Of course, she hadn't told _Spike_ that, because she didn't like it when he was drunk at all. He scared her then. Truth be told, he scared _Xander_ then - more than his drunken father ever had. Spike drunk in Sunnydale had been bitchy and moody and a little comical. Spike drunk here was - vicious and cutting and violent.

Spike scowled over at Xander, wiping his fingers on a napkin. "M'not drinking too much. M'not drinking at _all_ , just lately. What the fuck did you tell her that for?"

"Well, what _should_ I tell her? That you're out letting these - _perverts_ \- hurt you and...and you know…." Xander couldn't finish that, but Spike knew what he meant, and he angrily snatched up a cigarette and lit it, snapping his lighter closed and puffing furiously. 

" _'You know'_? Christ, Harris, how old are you? Can't you say the word? Fucked, as in - I'm getting fucked so that _you_ can sit on your ass here everyday. And so the Bit can do her shopping and her - her decorating and -"

"Don't pin this on us, Spike! I _have_ a job, even if it's only part time. It's not my fault I don't have a passport or anything! Oh - wait - that would be _your_ fault, since you didn't bring my ID or anything along! And Dawn isn't even seventeen, she can't _get_ a job." 

Spike flicked ash onto his plate and glared, and Xander took a deep breath.

"Listen - I'm not - we're _grateful_ , Spike! I understand what you're doing. Dawn understands - what we've told her. But - but that's not the point." Xander hastily held up his hand, forestalling Spike's next comment. "The _point_ is - you don't look good. You look - _sick_. And these people - whoever they are, they.... For fuck's sake, Spike, they _hurt_ you! And they're on whatever drug the guy was before 'cause you come home all - spacey. A _lot_. And that _really_ freaks Dawn out. I mean - you were going on about Dru a couple days ago - saying some really crazy stuff!"

_That_ , in fact, had been the thing that had prompted this whole 'talk'. Spike wandering out of his room at ten in the morning, eyes dilated black and his face alarmingly pale, even for a vampire. Rambling on disjointedly about Dru and little girls, blood and tea parties and his Family.... Talking as if they were _there_ , in the room, and getting frighteningly lost in the house. Going so far as to try to open a door to outside. Dawn had shrieked and grabbed him and dragged him to his room, agreeing with him when he called her 'Dru', letting him stroke her hair - getting Xander to help him back into bed. 

Spike had dropped off almost at once and hadn't said a word when he'd gotten up. When Dawn had tentatively brought it up that evening, he'd said he'd had a bad dream and must have been walking in his sleep - that he did that sometimes. Dawn, who had her own share of bad dreams, had accepted that and hadn't mentioned it again but Xander had been shaken - had been pretty damn frightened.

 

_What if he had walked outside? What if he'd - Christ! Pull it together, Xander. Focus._

Spike was staring at him, and when he lifted his cigarette to his mouth to take a final puff, Xander saw that his hand was shaking.

"You _do_ remember that, don't you? You remember - trying to go outside?"

Spike stubbed the butt out in his plate with a little more force than necessary - leaned forward and put his elbows on the table, his head in his hands. "Yeah, I remember. Fuck, Harris, I was just - just havin' a bad d-dream."

"No you weren't. You were _sleepwalking_ , Spike. You were out of your mind. What the fuck do these people take? _Why_ do you let them hurt you? I mean - the money isn't worth it, Spike! We don't need half the stuff we've got - we can get by on less -"

" _No_ , Harris." Spike squeezed his eyes shut - dug his fingers into his hair. "We aren't _'getting by on less'_. Niblet...she's not gonna live in some cramped little hole, worryin' about her next meal. She -"

"I already told you - don't put this on us. It's cheap to live here. You're not doing this so Dawn can have ten pair of shoes. Spike -" 

Xander stood up abruptly and paced to the stove and back - went around the table and pulled a chair up close, so that he was inches from the vampire, his knees almost touching the long thigh. Spike hadn't moved - was still hunched over the table, eyes shut. Xander reached out, very slowly, and put his hand on Spike's bare shoulder, and Spike jumped like he'd been shot. 

Xander hastily removed his hand.

"Spike - _tell me_. We're down here to keep Dawn safe. But you're acting so fuckin' - _weird_ \- it's making me nervous! I mean - if something came through the door right now, could you even stop it? I can't do this alone, Spike. But I'm gonna have to try if you won't tell me what's going on. We have to fix this."

"Fuck you, Harris," Spike said, but the usual venom wasn't there at all - in fact, he just sounded tired.

"C'mon, Spike.... Please?" Xander added the _please_ deliberately - put his hand back on the smooth, muscled shoulder for completely selfish reasons. Spike heaved a huge sigh - leaned slowly back in his chair and looked straight at Xander.

"I'm payin' off a debt, Harris. In about - two more weeks, I'll have it paid in full. That's why I'm...letting these people do what they do. It pays triple what just a regular fuck and bite would." That was the _last_ thing Xander expected to hear and he blinked, confused.

"Ookay…. What debt? I mean - how the hell have you gotten into debt so fast? It's not - not this _house_ , is it? I mean, we don't have to -"

"No, no, _no_ \- sod it all, Harris, it's not the house and it's not _you_ , and it's not Dawn. It's.... I found a Yn'n Clan here. They do mojo - very specific mojo, with electricity." Spike was _looking_ at him, his hands tense on his thighs, his jaw tight, and Xander just sat there for a minute until suddenly it clicked.

"You're - doing something to the chip, aren't you."

"Yeah."

Xander didn't move - Spike didn't - and they sat there for at least a minute. And then Xander blinked, and slowly rubbed his hand over his face. 

"Right. Okay. I…. Should we leave? Should Dawn and I just - go? Before you do it, I mean?" 

Spike's eyes went very wide, and Xander swore he got paler, although he didn't think that was possible.

"No. _No_ , you - Harris -" Spike stood abruptly, fumbling for a cigarette, scrabbling after his lighter and almost dropping it. His hands were shaking _hard_ now, and Xander stood up as well - reached over and gently cupped them, guiding the flame to the tip and holding it there until the cigarette caught. Spike's hands seemed colder than they should be, and Xander wanted to hold them - chafe some warmth into them. Instead he carefully let go. 

Spike drew in a deep lungful of smoke - tossed the lighter down and laughed shortly, a sort of rasping bark.

"Fuck me, Harris, you just - I'm _not going to kill you._ When will you -? Fuck it." Spike paced over to the sink and stood there, his back to Xander, the cigarette held trembling out over the drain. Spike's back was so tense his muscles were quivering, and one of the cuts had opened. A thin thread of blood tracked slowly down beside his spine, and Xander picked up a clean napkin and walked over to him - carefully blotted the blood up and threw the napkin away.

"You made a point of telling me for, what - almost a year? how you were gonna kill me the minute the chip came out. What am I supposed to think?"

"Maybe you're supposed to think that - that since I didn't give up the Bit to the hell-bitch and since I helped the lot of you for months that I.... That you can trust me." 

Xander stood there for a moment, and his inner voice was telling him two things; one, that the evil undead can never be trusted, and two, that he really, really wanted to just lean onto Spike's back and slip his hand's around that narrow waist - lay his cheek on one cool, hard shoulder. Xander irritably shushed his voice. It really wasn't being terribly helpful.

"You're right. You got Dawn down here - you've been taking care of her.... Hell, you've been taking care of me!" Xander walked back to the table and sat down heavily. "Okay, so, let's say I trust you, and you're not going to kill us when you get it out, or whatever. What _are_ you going to do? I mean - are you going to - to go back to being all...." 

Spike turned around, leaning against the sink, and there was a faint smile on his face as he lifted the cigarette to his mouth.

"Am I going to go back to being a _proper_ vampire? Hell yeah. It's what I _am_ , Harris. I can't _be_ anything else! I'm not gonna bathe in the blood of ten virgins every night or anything, if that's what you're wondering." 

Spike took a last puff and dropped the cigarette into the sink - came back over to the table and sat down again, nabbing a slice of squash and inspecting it. "There's _old_ vamps here - old demons. This country - has a lot of magic in it. They don't appreciate the kind of random slaughter the Family got up to in the old days. Hell, when me and Dru were here last time, even _she_ reined it in. Doesn't pay to fuck with the Old Guard 'round here. And bathing in blood isn't all it's cracked up to be, anyway. It clots too fast." 

Spike dipped the squash into the oil and chewed, and Xander mulled that information over - made an obligatory _'ewww'_ face at the blood comment.

"Okay, so - when this happens - you're done with this guy's friends, right? You're done being a damn - gigolo and coming home with fucking bruises and shit, right?" 

Spike shot him that wide-eyed look again, the manga look, and Xander bit his lip. 

_Why not just go down on one knee, huh Xander? Jesus._

"Well, _yeah_. They might not actually survive the night it comes out." Spike had a faraway look in his eyes at that, and Xander shivered just a bit.

"And you'll be done with this - spacey shit too, right? You'll be - you'll be normal again? I  
mean -" Xander held up a hand and couldn't stop the grin from stretching his mouth wide, "as normal as you get. Right?"

"You git," Spike snorted. "It's the damn shite they take. These people take more fuckin' crap than I did in the seventies."

"Oh." Xander thought about that. "Is that gonna be a problem? I mean - are we talkin' withdrawal and - and undead rehab and that kinda stuff?" Another snort from Spike, who was devouring a tomato slice, and Xander grinned again.

_He's actually talking and acting like...like the Spike I know and lo- whatever! Go Xander!_

"Nah. Can't get addicted, me. Doesn't happen. But I _can_ feel the - come down, I guess you'd call it. But then, I'm all healed up by the next day or so, so I'll be fine once I'm - once it's done. Just a day or two of, you know, the shakes maybe."

"Okay. Good. That's good. I think the idea of an undead Betty Ford Clinic is just too twisted even for me."

Spike actually _laughed_ , tilting his head back, and Xander fought the idiot grin that threatened to split his face in two.

_God, I'm glad that's over. No bloodshed, no yelling, no -_

Spike leaned forward, pinning Xander with a calculating stare. "Right. You got your answers. I want a few of my own, mate."

_Oh crap._

 

Spike watched Xander flush - watch him drop his eyes and lean back in his chair, trying to put a distance between them.

_Gotcha, Harris. Some things you don't wanna tell me, I know. But you're gonna._ Spike allowed himself a small smirk of amusement as Xander jumped up and started gathering plates and loading them into the sink - putting away the soup. Avoidance at it's best. Spike just ate peppers and squash, watching him until the human suddenly leaned his hands on the sink, wet and soapy to the wrists.

"Well, are you gonna _ask_ me anything, or are you just gonna sit there and - _stare_ at me?"

"You're the one been doing the starin', mate. Every time I move - hell, when I'm _not_ moving - you're starin' at me. What's that all about?" Spike could hear Xander's heart, pounding in his chest. Could smell the sweat, and the tinge of fear. And the blood, because Xander was blushing again, and it made him smell so...damn… _good_. Spike got up and stalked across the kitchen - stood just behind Xander, close enough to feel the living heat - close enough to see the tremors in the hands that were clumsily washing a plate.

"I'm just - just making sure that you're not.... That those people, that they're not...hurting you too much." 

Spike stood absolutely still at that. Stared in astonishment at the back of Xander's flushed neck and shoulders. At the curls of mahogany-colored hair that were sticking slightly to the damp, tawny skin.

"You.... Pet, that's...." A shiver went over the body in front of him, and Spike lifted one hand - let it hover just over Xander's shoulder. Let it slowly down, back to his side.

_That's - not what I thought I'd hear. That's something I **never** thought I'd hear. Not from **this** Scooby, at any rate._

"You care, Harris? Worry 'bout me?" Spike took a step closer - inhaled silently, letting the wonderful scents of blood and fresh salt-sweat and… _arousal_...roll over his tongue. He closed his eyes for a moment in sheer bliss.

"Well yeah, S-spike. Me and Dawn'd be - pretty bad off if something h-happened to you." Xander tried for cocky, but his voice was strained and hoarse and faltering, and Spike smiled, glad he was behind the boy. Glad he could have the illusion of control, because he was...completely thrown.

_What now, then? Never thought.... Well, can't be anything more than - curiosity._ Spike swayed fractionally closer - felt his chest just barely, barely brush against Xander's shirt. Xander was frozen - breathing in sharp little breaths that hitched his ribcage and made the faint brush of shirt-on-skin come and go; now harder, now softer. Spike lifted both hands - let them delicately trace the air just above Xander's wrists and forearms and biceps.

"That's so, Xanderrr..." he said, letting his voice go low and rumbling. "But that's not _why_. Tell me _why_." 

Xander was shivering now, his hands clenched tight on the sink's edge. Spike edged a little to one side and saw that his eyes were closed, his lower lip caught so hard between his teeth Spike was surprised that he hadn't drawn blood. He let his hands continue their slow, slow caress, and he saw the gooseflesh rise on Xander's arms - saw him twitch, just a little, wanting the touch - anticipating and dreading.

"Don't be scared, pet..." Spike whispered, and Xander let out a strangled, breathy sound that might have been a laugh.

"Oh - okay, Spike. I won't be afraid of - of somebody who -" Xander clenched his jaws shut, shaking his head slightly, and Spike wondered how he'd end that sentence if he let himself. The instinct was to _pounce_ ; Xander was naturally prey, and at this moment he might as well have been lost and reeking of blood in some dark street, because the demon was ready to exploit any weakness it saw - ready to put a claw into any tiny crack and _pry_ until the soft, sweet core - visceral or mental, made no difference - was exposed. And Xander….

_He's just - a bruise. One deep bruise that's just kept getting hit, and hit until the lightest touch makes him flinch. Makes him...lash out. Makes him raise that heavy, heavy shield... White knight to the end. But there's a way past that. Soft and slow would win him. If I wanted him._

The _demon_ wanted - but the demon was as happy to kiss as kill, and Spike felt, much to his surprise, that he wanted Xander to stop being afraid for _real_. But he couldn't resist a little push, because he was _Spike_ , after all, not William.

"Wouldn't hurt you, pet," Spike whispered, and let his hands settle finally, lightly, on Xander's wrists; let his fingers circle around the muscle and bone and hold, ever so gently. Then he bent his head and put his lips on Xander's shoulder. Let the tip of his tongue ghost over the point of bone that was just there, under the skin. Tasted, for long, long seconds the salt-flesh, and the sweet that was soap, and the underlying taste that was just _Xander_ \- something like a plum, something like anise, rich and tantalizing. He pulled away then, letting his fingers trail over Xander's wrists. Turned his head to let the soft lock of hair that was just _there_ , along Xander's neck, brush his cheek.

Xander seemed to have stopped breathing, and as Spike took one step back, then another. Xander suddenly shivered violently, his head dropping down between his shoulders. Spike turned silently and went back to his room - curled into the bed. He was tired, and he was still feeling strung out. But he smiled, as he lay there. Xander hadn't stopped him - hadn't said a word. And the human's arousal and fear had been about equal.

_Wonder how long he'll deny it? Wonder...what he thinks...when he stares at me._

 

When Dawn had finally left for her dance - she'd had to model her dress, of course, and Xander had had to take pictures - the house seemed echoingly empty. Xander wandered nervously from living room to kitchen to living room again, thinking and _not_ thinking about the day before. About barely-there touches and that strange almost-kiss, and Spike's voice whispering _'wouldn't hurt you....'_ He'd started out lying to Spike, and he'd ended on a lie. He didn't check him over for new hurts every morning because of Dawn, or because he was afraid Spike was being hurt too much by his most persistent 'clients'.

_Well, okay, **yes** , that **is** one reason. The other reason is...because...I hate it. I hate seeing him like that. He shouldn't have to do that - those people shouldn't be **allowed** to do that and.... I'm not supposed to care what happens to the evil undead! I should be worried about the damn chip! But I do and I'm not and I want to kill those fuckers myself…._

Xander ended up on the balcony that looked across the street to the Gulf. It was Marine Day, and there were boats strung with colored lights in the harbor, and a few scattered fireworks going off, glittering like early stars in the soft, damson twilight. The moon was a hand span above the horizon, huge and saffron-gold, and Xander just leaned against the rail and watched it rise, slowly burnishing from copper to silver-white. The damp, sea-salt breeze felt good ruffling through his hair, and he felt he could stay out there all night.

_Yeah, just hide out here. Not face...anything. Why do I have to fall for all the **wrong** people? I mean.... Everybody I've ever liked has turned out to be some sort of horrible monster.... Or been ashamed of me, thank you **so** much, Cordy. Or...fuck...just wanted to use me for something. And Anya, you fall right in that same category as Faith, even though I think...you didn't plan it. But we didn't have anything between us but our mutual need for...company. Some scrap of normalcy so nobody will know exactly how fucked up we are. So where does Spike fit in? He said he wouldn't hurt me...do I trust him?_

That was the hardest part. That was the clincher. Xander _already_ trusted Spike, in several different ways that had nothing to do with sex or love or hearts being ripped to shreds and stomped on. Xander trusted Spike to take care of Dawn no matter what. Xander trusted Spike to tell him the truth about pretty much anything: balls-out honesty was one of Spike's better traits. Xander trusted Spike….

_And there it is. I **trust** him. I **have** trusted him. He stood up to Glory and didn't say a word about Dawn. He's helped us, and helped us…. He's taken all our shit and never once has he let Dawn down….or us. He might not seem like a part of the gang but he **is** , no matter how much he denies it or… **Buffy** denies it. And I'd put him at my back before anybody else on the planet. But...do I trust him in **this**?_

Xander sighed and closed his eyes - breathed deeply of the mingled scents of ocean and flowers and damp earth; the acrid stink of fireworks and the subtler smoke of,… _Cigarette. Oh! Where is he?_ Xander listened hard, and was finally rewarded with a soft inhale and exhale, right behind him.

"I know you're there," Xander said softly, and Spike laughed, very low.

"Wasn't tryin' to hide, Xander." Xander took in a small, sharp breath.

_He just said my **name** , damnit, he didn't.... That shouldn't get to me._ "So what - what's the plan for tonight? You...going out?" Another puff and Spike sent the cigarette butt arcing out to the street, tiny coal and trail of sparks like a distant comet.

"No, not going out. I thought I'd stay in. Thought I'd... take up where I left off." 

Xander opened his mouth to ask _'Left off what?'_ , but he knew _exactly_ what, and his heart lurched into a faster, harder rhythm. "Spike...."

Xander said, and then stopped, and sighed. Because he didn't know where to _go_ from there. He _wanted_ , with all his nerve-endings, those touches and that kiss again. But what else he wanted - what else he might _get_ \- he had no idea. And it was too much like Anya, in a way: physical attraction and a pit full of sharpened stakes under there somewhere, because could they ever _really_ have anything in common beyond the desire for a fuck? Because whatever Xander thought he was feeling, he was damn sure Spike _wasn't_ , and he really, _really_ didn't want to go down the path of utter rejection once again.

_Fuck. I trust him to be himself and I don’t think that includes...feelings...for me. Beyond the horny kind._

Xander knew, without a doubt, that he was easy. Give him a smile, give him some attention, and he was ready to give away his heart. And he also knew, down deep, that of all the people he might choose, Spike would be the one most able to tear him into the tiniest, most painful shreds possible.

"What is it, Harris? I can practically hear the wheels turning." Spike's voice was still low, but there was a bit of an edge to it now, and Xander turned against the rail so he could see the vampire. Spike was leaning against the doorjamb, looking a little pissed off. Back in the striped pants, his hair still damp from a shower.

_Damnit. Not helping. Shouldn't have looked._

"I'm just.... What do you _want_ from me, really?" Spike just stared at him for a minute, then his gaze lowered and raked Xander from head to toe and back, a hot light coming up in his eyes.

"Thought that was obvious, mate."

"Right, okay." Xander pushed his hands back through his hair - crossed his arms. He knew he looked defensive, but he couldn't help it. He _was_ defensive.

_And I am not freaking out. I am calm. Larry freaked me out because he went from the guy that liked to flatten me to...to the guy who might wanna kiss me. Spike is **not** freaking me out because he...wanted to kill me not too long ago...Jesus Christ._ Xander shook himself a little and tried to get back on track.

"Yeah, I get that, but... Spike, I don't think I can...do that. This. Whatever." 

Now Spike looked more than a little pissed, and he came off the jamb and strode forward, standing right in front of Xander. Close enough to touch, and Xander clenched his fists under his arms and didn't move. "Can't do _what?_ Can't lower yourself to touch the evil undead? What, I'm beneath _you_ , too? Where d'you get such a fuckin' high opinion -"

"Whoa, wait!" Xander held up a hand, accidentally brushing Spike's arm, and they both flinched.

_Where the hell did **that** come from? Hit a nerve...a Buffy-nerve, I bet. Let's not think about Buffy._

"I didn't say anything like that. Just - damnit, Spike, I wanna know what you think you're gonna _get_ from me!"

Spike stared at him, scowling. " _Get_ from you?" Spike looked like he was about to say something else, but suddenly he just backed off. "Harris - what's goin' through your head?"

Xander sighed and looked down at his bare feet - looked back up at Spike, who was against the door jamb again, arms crossed as well.

"What's going through my head is.... Well, basically all the other people I've gotten involved with. And if you exclude the non-humans, you have one girl who didn't want to be seen in public with me, and…. Willow, who became gay. Or whatever. And one girl who tried to kill me and -"

" _Who_ tried to kill you?" Spike looked intrigued and Xander sighed.

"Faith. Remember her? The other Slayer?" Spike's eyes went wide and Xander wanted to…. _(Want to kiss that look right off his face. Damnit.)_ "And then Anya, who maybe doesn't count as human and just barely noticed that I was gone. Not a good track record. And I'm just...."

"Gun shy?" Spike was smiling now. Smiling in a rather predatory way, but smiling, and Xander felt a wave of warm tingles run down his back at that. It was a _nice_ smile.

_Maybe I should be running and screaming. That **can't** be good._

"Harris - you're only...what...nineteen?"

"Twenty."

"Right, twenty. Do you really think you should have found your - one true love by now?"

Xander had to laugh - that sounded so funny, coming from Spike. "Well, no - probably not. But... I _like_ people, you know? And when I like them, I tend to… _really_ like them. And that's just never worked out well for me."

_Hand him the keys to the castle. Why not? Fuck._

Spike's smile had softened now and he moved forward again, slowly. _Stalking_ , maybe, or maybe just trying not to spook him. "So you're sayin' you… _like_ me," Spike murmured, and Xander had to roll his eyes.

"Well - yeah. But I know you _don't_. And I just -"

"You _know?_ Tellin' me what I feel, now?" Spike was inches from him again, and he reached out and put his hands on either side of the railing, trapping Xander against it and getting just that much closer.

"Well, no, I -" Xander felt a moment's panic, and he took in a sharp breath as Spike's thigh brushed his. Spike's eyes were half-closed, and his tongue flickered out over his lips.

"That's good. Shouldn't make assumptions, Xander. What I think I'm going to get from you is just...." Spike leaned forward suddenly and kissed him, and Xander froze in complete shock.

_Oh my God. Okay. Oh! Do something, idiot!_ Xander let his eyes go shut - unlocked his jaw and let Spike _kiss_ him, and it was really - quite - "Nice, that's..."

" _That's_ what I'm gonna get from you, Xander. Something nice. Something _better_ than nice. You've been watching me, and _thinking_ about me - 'bout drivin' me crazy with all those looks and… _blushes_...."

Spike kissed him again, slowly, his tongue stroking and tasting, and Xander felt his arms unclench, and he hesitantly reached out - put his hands on Spike's biceps. Spike's mouth was open a little wider, pushing a little harder, and Xander let him in - tipped his head a little and kissed back, tasting smoke and toothpaste, tasting something sweet. He felt Spike's arms move - felt Spike's hands settle lightly on his hips and squeeze, just a little. After a moment he pulled away, and Xander found himself staring at Spike - staring into his eyes and seeing want and maybe...some sort of affection there. _Something_ , he just wasn't sure what.

"Spike - I don't know -"

"I know you don't. Listen, Xander. I'm not your soul mate, yeah? Not your one true love. But I - _like_ you. You might rush in where you shouldn't and you might be a little too mouthy for your own good, but you're brave, and you stand up for what's yours, yeah? I know you'd do anything for the Bit." Spike moved close again, rubbing his cheek along Xanders, gently. Putting tiny, nibbling kisses along his jaw.

"We're here, and we...get along. Told you already - I won't hurt you, pet. Sometime the Slayer'll figure out what's what with Glory and then you'll be goin' home, yeah? And until then...why not just...enjoy this?" His hands had moved, slowly, and they were under the edge of Xander's shirt now - thumbs rubbing slow circles on his ribs and his fingers pressing into Xander's back. Xander knew his own hands were tight on Spike's arms - tight enough to hurt a human, but probably nothing to the vampire.

_Why not? There's a lot to enjoy here. And he's probably right. Doesn't everybody get a crush on their...kidnapper? Stockwell syndrome or...oh!...something like that…._ Xander gasped softly as Spike kissed his throat; wet kisses that trailed down to his collarbones.

"Stuff like this never t-turns out well," Xander muttered, last effort, because he wasn't fooling himself. He knew he was in for a world of hurt. It _already_ hurt, to think about going back to Sunnydale and seeing Spike go after Buffy again. 

_Except he doesn't talk about her anymore. And he doesn't talk **to** her.... Maybe -_

"Won't turn out _bad_. Promise, Xander. Won't hurt you." Spike slid his hands up the back of Xander's shirt and pulled him close, kissing him _hard_ this time; kissing him like he was drowning and Xander was oxygen and Xander just - let go. It was more than he had in him, to resist the obvious desire. The _want_ that was in that kiss and the in the hard body that pressed eagerly against him.

_Hard - oh God. What do I - do, what -_

Spike ended the kiss, laughing softly, his groin tight to Xander's and their mutual arousal pressed between them. "I can hear your heart, pet. Goin' a mile a minute."

"I'm just a little - a little inexperienced. And freaked out. I don't have _any_ clue -"

"Mmmm..." Spike rolled his hips a little, and Xander groaned softly. "Don't worry about it, Xander. Can't do this wrong. C'mon, come inside." Spike took a step back and his hands trailed down Xander's body - caught one hand in his and tugged. Xander followed, trying to calm down a little. Spike led him into the living room and sprawled down onto the couch - pulled Xander down on top of him.

"Just do what feels good, yeah? Whatever you want." Spike was cool and solid and so _there_ , lying not quite still on the smooth, pale linen and Xander froze for one long second, totally unable to think of anything whatsoever. Then he dropped his head down and kissed, using all the tricks Cordy had taught him and Anya had seemed to like the best. Spike made a small noise in the back of his throat and moved, bringing up one knee so that Xander's hips settled between his thighs and their erections were side by side, pressing hard.

"God -" Xander put his forehead on Spike's shoulder - took a deep breath and kissed the skin there, tasting. Soap and that sweet taste again, like honey or molasses. Thick and dark - delicious. He kissed everywhere he could reach and then squirmed a little lower, and they both gasped at the friction. Spike's hands, that had been kneading and rubbing at his back tightened for a moment and then he was pulling at the edge of Xander's shirt - getting it up, getting it _off_ , and Xander had to slide back up a little, wanting to feel skin on skin.

"So warm...." Spike murmured, and he rubbed his hands slowly up Xander's back to his head - stroked through his hair and pulled him closer, kissing again.

_Oh, good kissing - this is really good kissing.... Why did Buffy have such a problem with this? Not thinking about that - oh!_ "Spike!" Xander pushed himself up on his arms, startled to feel Spike's hand at the front of his jeans, slipping under the waistband.

"You don't want me to, Xander?" Spike was wide-eyed and tousled - Xander belatedly remembered his hands burrowing into Spike's hair - and Xander slowly let himself back down.

"No, I - I was just...surprised, is all. It's - all right."

"Better than all right," Spike murmured, and pulled him down again, and then things got...hazy.

_Oh yeah, better than all right…._

Xander's hands were shaking, and his jeans were gone, and Spike was moving under him like a snake, like a cat; all writhe and arch and hiss. The cool skin was like cream and honey, smooth and sweet, and Xander couldn't stop touching it, couldn't stop _tasting_ it, and Spike was making these little murmurs of pleasure every time he licked or sucked or _bit_ , and he really couldn't stop doing _that_ , either. Xander wanted - _something_ \- wanted more, and he pushed his cock into Spike's belly and ground against him, panting.

"Spike - fuck, I -"

"Let's go in the bedroom, pet," Spike whispered, and Xander shivered all over.

"Yeah - okay, yeah..." He pushed himself clumsily upright, letting Spike go, and the vampire pulled him in for a hard, hard kiss.

"You're so fucking sweet, Xander, taste so good...." Spike had his hand again, pulling him along and Xander stumbled after. There was a candle lit in Spike's room - a fat, saffron-colored thing with four wicks, smelling of beeswax and citrus and Xander laughed, slightly hysterical.

"Wow - romantic c-candlelight. Were you _planning_ -?" Spike tipped his head a little, eyebrow going up, gaze roving over Xander again in that calculating, greedy way and Xander felt a spasm of want twist in him, making him gasp.

"Just hoping. Can't blame me now, can you? You kept _looking_ , pet, and… _thinking_ , and...." Slow smile, just a hint of that cock-sure twist of the lip. "Can't hardly resist you, love."

"Oh...." Xander couldn't make his voice work, after that - couldn't even put another word after that small and wondering sound and Spike laughed softly, pulling him over to the bed. To the tangle of dark-red sheets and garnet-colored pillows, cotton cool against Xander's palms and knees as Spike laid himself down on his back and took Xander with him; legs wide, knees bumping Xander's ribs, and Xander froze again.

"You... Spike, I d-don't -"

"Shush, love. Already told you - can't do this wrong. Here -" Spike twisted, his body a rope of amber and milk in the candlelight, deep turquoise pools of shadow. Xander hovered, on his knees, watching Spike unearth a glass jar from the litter of books and cigarette packs and newspaper on the bedside table. Watched him unscrew the lid and tip it invitingly towards Xanders. A waft of smells - cinnamon, musk, ginger - and he reached hesitantly and scooped some out. Creamy-smooth, cool and heavy.

"Go on then, love - make yourself all slick for me, won't you? Make it so you'll just glide in, love, all hard and slippery and hot...." Spike's voice was a rumbling purr in the dimness, his body arching and open and _waiting_ , and Xander smoothed the cream over himself, gasping a little at the coolness, groaning a little at the delicious glide of his fingers.

"Come on, then Xander, come on -" Spike whispered, and Xander reached out and rubbed the last of the cream over Spike's cock, watching in fascination as the vampire's belly rippled and tensed - as a pearl of clear liquid welled at the tip.

"Spike -"

"Here, love," Spike murmured, and his legs were around Xander's ribs, pulling him close; his hand was on Xander's cock, guiding him, and Xander felt the ridged flesh of Spike's body - felt the resistance that melted to a clinging friction - grasping, cool flesh that seemed to draw him in and he gasped for breath, panting.

"God, _God_ -that's - fuck, that's -"

"Sweet, sweet - little more, love, all the way, come on - need you, Xander, need you right inside - need _all_ of you inside - come on -" Spike's breathy, moaning voice made Xander shiver and he pushed forward, groaning.

Xander suddenly couldn't wait - couldn't _stop_ \- and his hips bucked forward, burying him as far as he could go. Spike arched against him, one leg curling tight around his ribs, one slipping up onto his shoulder. His cock was moving with his body, darker for the blood and Xander stared - drew back and pushed forward and gasped again - watched Spike writhe again; watched his long fingers skate over Xander's trembling forearms and then they slid over his neck - into his hair - and Spike was pulling him down, urging him on and Xander just let his body take over - let his cock and his hips and his mouth dictate what was to come.

Stuttering, hitching glide, clench of muscle, tongue and teeth and lips against his own, sucking out his breath and pushing it back in and Xander felt something, small bump of flesh that pressed at his cock-head and he pressed back, twisting, and Spike _keened_ , soft sound of pure delight.

"Oh, fuck - Xander, love, right, right - there, Xander, again, do it again -" murmured into his mouth, hands clutching his back, grinding his hips forward and Xander did it again, again, again, panting and moaning himself, shaking from the sensations, lost in the smoky musk that was Spike's skin and hair, lost in the molasses-sweet taste of his mouth and the crooning voice that told him _'yes'_ and _'more'_ and _'love, love, so good, fucking lovely….'_ Spike's hand slipped between them and then his fingers were at Xander's mouth, slipping in, and Xander tasted something cool, salt-sweet, and he sucked greedily, flickering his tongue over and around Spike's fingers.

"That's me, that's my taste, love that’s - God - that's how good you are, Xander, make me fuckin' want you so much -" 

Xander shuddered all over, driving deep, his neck arching, eyes closing. Spike's mouth was cool on his throat - cool and wet and _sharp_ , prickling, and he _knew_ and the knowledge sent spasm after delicious spasm through him.

"Fuck, Spike - yes, yes, _yes_ \- fucking _yes_...." 

The fangs were like needles of silver ice, sliding in effortlessly and the suck of Spike's mouth pulled at the very root of his cock. His orgasm was like a heartbeat, booming through his whole body in hot, tight waves and he cried out, thrusting furiously.

Beneath him Spike was growling, panting, and Xander pushed in harder, his body locked in the final twisting spasm and Spike arched up hard against him, his cock pushing at Xander's belly and a sudden flood of cool sperm slicking them both. Xander's arms were shaking - his legs were - and Spike just pulled at him, pulling him down, taking his weight between his thighs and onto his chest, kissing and licking and stroking his hair.

"Thank you, pet, so sweet, so good…." Spike murmured, and Xander shivered in delight.

"Jesus, Spike, that was - was so fucking good -" Xander kissed what he could reach - neck and shoulder, jaw - finally found Spike's mouth and kissed him _hard_ \- sucked the cool tongue into his own mouth, bit at mobile lips. Old-iron taste of blood and a dark, smoky sweetness. They both jerked a little, startled, at the sudden _crump_ of an explosion, and then the room was washed in scarlet and white, green and gold and blue and electric purple as fireworks began to flare and die over the Gulf. Spike's skin was dyed every color - his eyes glittered like stars and Xander just laughed.

"Did you plan this, too? Fireworks?" Spike ginned up at him - squeezed him tight with arms and legs and the muscles deep in his body and Xander groaned, doing his best to press in closer.

"Sometimes things just work out," Spike murmured, and then they were kissing again and Xander knew he was lost, gone - hopelessly snared. And he didn't care. The next day, when Dawn called Buffy - it was over. Glory was dead. Dawn was ecstatic. Xander...just wanted to die.


	3. Chapter 3

For three days Dawn had been bouncing through the house, chattering almost endlessly and Xander was about to lose it. Spike just laughed, watching her; indulging her sudden desires to buy presents for everyone, to start packing _now_ , to call Buffy again, Willow again. Xander understood her excitement, but he was on edge, and it was getting harder and harder to hide.

For the first time in months Xander had actually sat down and _talked_ to Willow, the phone hot against his ear, and heard the whole story. The Council had finally come to its senses, so to speak, and realized that one Slayer simply could not deal with a rampaging Hellgod. They'd begged, borrowed, maybe even _stole_ power and information, and had finally found the thing that would defeat her. This after three abysmal attempts to contain her that had lost the Watchers a double handful of their members. The final solution to Glory had been something called a Qui-Gon Jinn Puzzle Box - Willow's voice had drowned a little in static and Xander wasn't sure that that was _exactly_ what she'd said - that had sucked Glory into an alternate dimension that was _inside_ the box. Roomy, apparently, since it had taken a half-dozen of her little troll acolytes and some random demons, as well.

"You should have seen it, Xander! It was all - lights! Camera! Action! Except no actual camera 'cause we weren't there to take pictures except maybe we _should_ have 'cause it was like this amazing tornado or something made out of lights and sparkles and...and fairy dust -"

"Fairy dust?" Xander asked, laughing, and Willow laughed too.

"Well, some sort of highly magical dusty stuff! It glittered, okay? Like in Legend when Una tried to trick Jack...." Willow went off on some complicated ramble that somehow equated a movie fairy with a million-year-old Hellgod being sucked into a cloisonné prison and Xander let his mind wander.

 

Spike hadn't touched him since _that day_. Well, that wasn't strictly true. He _had_ touched him, but nothing had come of it. Brushing his hand over Xander's back when they were both in the kitchen, propping his feet close and letting his toes bump Xander's while watching TV, coming up behind him and nuzzling into the hair at the nape of his neck and then slipping away. 

Xander had yet to touch back - he was nervous about Dawn seeing - and he wasn't sure what he wanted to do. Wasn't sure if this was just some game, to Spike. Some...easy let-down because now they'd be going back to Sunnydale and the Stalk-the-Slayer business would start up all over again and Xander really didn't think he could watch that. He wondered what the likelihood was of him moving to, say, Oxnard and getting his old job back.

_Not like he didn't say. Because he **did**. He said - we aren't soul mates and we aren't each other's...one true love. Just - having fun. Just...enjoying it while it lasts and **fuck**....why did it have to last such a damn short time?_

"Xander? Are you there?" Willow's voice was sharp with - something - and Xander straightened unconsciously in his chair and cleared his throat.

"Yeah, I'm here, sorry, just -"

"Oh, it's okay! I know you're excited about coming home.... I can't believe you're finally coming home! It's been so _long_ -" And Willow was off again, detailing all sorts of things, large and small, that had changed since they'd left. Talking about classes and about Tara, talking about some UCS guy Buffy had gone out with, talking about how hard dealing with Glory had been. Stuff she had put in her emails but needed to say again for some reason and Xander just kind of zoned out.

"Xander, I don't think you're listening," Willow said, and Xander nodded distractedly before realizing he was on the phone and she couldn't see that.

"I - I guess I'm a little...overwhelmed. Things are just kind of different now, you know? It's kinda...weird."

"Yeah. Speaking of...I saw your mom in the grocery store the other day. She looked - good." Willow's voice was tentative and Xander sighed. He'd asked Willow to print out a letter for him - a story about needing some time on his own and that he was okay, everything was fine. Something so his folks wouldn't worry. They hadn't sent any sort of reply back and Xander had given up asking.

"You did? Did she - I mean...that's great." Willow sighed, and Xander clutched the phone a little tighter. 

_She didn't say anything about me. She didn't...ask. She doesn't…._ Xander slammed the mental doors shut on that thought _hard_. He was _not_ going to sit here and think about his parents and get all….

"I'm sorry, Xander. She seemed a little - preoccupied. I - we didn't talk long."

_Just long enough to confirm that they don't care. Fuck. Neither should I._

Xander rubbed his eyes with one hand, doing his best not to let it get to him. _Don't want to care._

"Willow, I gotta go," Xander said, his voice strained and a little hoarse, and he heard Willow take in a sharp breath.

"Xander, I'm really -"

"Don't, okay? Just...don't. I - I'll talk to you tomorrow or something, okay? Bye Willow."

"Bye Xander. Say hi to Dawnie for me." Willow's voice was sad but Xander resolutely clicked the phone off - set it on the table instead of throwing it. He got up and went over to the fridge and got a soda out and stood leaning against the sink, drinking slowly.

_I'm twenty, damnit! What they think doesn't matter anymore. I'm...fuck, I'm in **Mexico**! I'm on my own and I helped save the fuckin' world and…._ Xander glared at the floor and blinked rapidly.

_Think about something else, for fucks sake...think about...anything…._

 

The Council had finally coughed up some cash - reinstated Giles' pay and dealt with the mess that Joyce's death had made of Buffy's finances. They were paying for Giles and Buffy to fly down to Veracruz and bring Dawn and him home. Spike - had muttered something about how he wasn't going to abandon the DeSoto and he was driving back, but there hadn't been an offer of a ticket for Spike in the first place.

 

_Can't believe they'd do that to him, after all he's been through for her...for **Dawn**. He let Glory torture him! And he…._

Well, nobody but Xander knew how he'd financed them here, and Xander was pretty sure that if he were to tell Buffy or Giles or even Willow about it they'd be disgusted and angry. Angry because he was biting humans and disgusted because….

_Because they would be. They'd think 'whore' and that would be it. But he's just doing...what he can. Selling what he can 'cause he doesn't have a choice. I mean...I don't like it but I understand it._ The Scoobies, he was sure, would never understand. _And when did they become 'The Scoobies'? I'm still a Scooby...aren't I?_

Xander sighed, and shook his head. He really wasn't, anymore. Research was mostly beyond him when he had to work two jobs just to stay afloat, and his years of fighting beside Buffy had been more a string of bad luck and near misses than anything else. It was a scary kind of thought. It made him feel - adrift. Like he had no anchor, and no real home.

_Two more days and they'll be here. Two more days and I'll be back in Sunnydale. Lost my apartment so I don't have any place to stay.... At least Anya put all my stuff in storage for me but...where can I go when I get there? Crash with Giles, maybe.... Back in Sunnydale and...I don't even know if I **want** to go back, anymore…._

Thinking about it all made Xander feel a little sick and he dumped the rest of his soda down the sink and paced around the apartment for a while, jittery and unsettled. Dawn was off with Serafina, getting in as much time as she could with her friend before they left and Spike was -

"Would you stop stompin' around like a bloody elephant?" Spike stood in his bedroom doorway, in those damn striped pants, glaring at Xander with sleep-heavy eyes.

"I'm not-! Oh, fine. I am." Xander flung himself down on the couch and a moment later Spike ghosted over, sliding over the back and settling bonelessly beside him. Xander wanted to get up again - wanted to _touch_ him - but he held himself still and kept his eyes down, concentrating on picking at the threads on the worn knee of his jeans.

"What's troubling you, pet?" Spike said, and the change in his voice - from irritated growl to soft concern - made Xander glance sharply over at him. Spike was _looking_ at him, sitting perfectly still and pinning him with that clear, intent gaze that made Xander want to squirm. Hair every which-way and left-over makeup around his eyes from last night. Double duty at the blood-house because he'd stepped up the de-chipping schedule. Xander couldn't tell if the circles under his eyes were smeared eye-liner or not. He forced himself to stay calm - to meet Spike's look with one of his own.

"I - it's... I'm just...nervous about going back." Xander watched the scarred eyebrow lift itself and braced himself for... something. _What_ , he didn't honestly know, anymore. This Spike was so very, very different from the Sunnydale Spike.

_Hell yeah, different. And not just the...ohGodsex, either._

"Are you? Why's that, now?" Spike asked, and Xander had to suck in a startled breath.

_He's being nice! God I hate this._

"Well I guess because.... Willow's been telling me how much has changed and...about the Council and everything and... I don't have an apartment anymore or - anything... It's just - weird." 

Spike just _looked_ at him some more, and Xander wanted to bolt. Wanted to take the vampire's shoulders and shake him until the cool, calm look was rattled right off his face.

_I'm nervous because there's every possibility that once we get back to Sunnydale and you start chasing Buffy again and I start being… **him** again I'll just go postal! Fuck, I might start right here!_

Xander shook his head, looking away finally, searching frantically for the remote to the TV in an effort to get some noise - some _distance_ \- between himself and his thoughts and _Spike_. He shivered convulsively when cool fingertips touched his jaw - gently cupped his face and turned his head.

Spike was sitting up, leaning towards Xander a little and his eyes were wide and open. "Not as bad as all that, is it?" he said, and Xander felt a surge of hysterical laughter bubble up in his chest and he gritted his teeth against it.

"Jesus, Spike - it's...." 

And Spike leaned forward and kissed him. It was several minutes before Xander could come up for air.  
"You just need a little soothing, yeah? C'mon to bed, pet," Spike murmured, his lips brushing Xander's and Xander just sat there, shivering, his eyes shut and his skin singing where Spike's hand and lips were touching it. 

"Xander? C'mon...." Spike's hand in his, tugging, and he got up and stumbled into the bedroom after Spike - let him take his clothes off and push him down on the bed. Let him do this slow, crawling grope all over him, the striped pants on the floor and Spike like a snake, heavy and cool and impossible to escape. Lips and fingers, tongue and teeth and Xander was starting to hyperventilate. He jerked hard away from Spike - pushed himself up the bed until the back of his head and his shoulders hit the carved wood of the headboard.

"Xander -?"

"Don't - _don't_. Just - quit, just -" Xander knew he looked like an idiot - chest heaving and his cock so _fucking_ hard and his eyes about to brim over with tears. But it had hit him like a fist to his gut. Hit him _hard_. Spike was playing with him. Was - was doing what he did at the blood-house, Xander was sure. The image in his mind - so vivid it made him sick; Spike talking soft and sweet to some rich bitch with a complex - Spike easing her down and smoothing things over and Spike being _gentle_ and it was just so fucking wrong.

"What the fuck is your problem, Harris?" Spike snapped, and Xander took in a hard breath, gasping chuckle.

"Now that's the S-spike I know and love, that's the - that's -" Spike made a disgusted sound and got up - stalked out of the room. Xander laughed again - wrapped his arms around his ribs and looked up at the ceiling, willing the tears to go _away_ , surrounded by the smoky-sweet, musky smell that permeated Spike's pillows and sheets. There was a distant crashing sound and Spike stalked back in - flopped himself onto the bed and grabbed Xander by the back of the neck, pulling.

"Sit up, you git," he growled, and Xander sat up slowly, blinking. Spike pried one of his hands loose from his ribs and shoved something into it. 

"Drink that," he ordered.

Xander looked down at the water-glass in his hand - at the two or three inches of amber liquid inside. 

"Jesus -"

"Just _drink it_ , Xander," Spike said, and there was a crack in his voice - a twist of utter weariness and Xander ducked his head and drank. The whiskey burned - the fumes went up his nose - and he choked, coughing. Spike smacked him sharply on the back and pushed the glass at him and Xander finished it.

Spike snatched the glass away and set it on the floor and then turned back to him. "Now tell me what in _hell_ is going on." Spike sounded pissed - _looked_ pissed - but his hand had crept out and was on Xander's knee, just lightly resting there, thumb stroking into the crease behind it and Xander watched, mesmerized.

"You don't have to _do_ this, you know. I mean, I f-figured it out and -"

"Figured _what_ out?" Spike sounded genuinely confused and Xander risked a look up - got the full manga-look of wide, wondering eyes and he groaned. The whiskey was like liquid fire in his belly and the heat was creeping outwards, tingling.

"Look, I know that you _do_ this, okay? That you - act like you...really want - I mean, it's what you do every _night_ , so you don't have to d-do it with me. I'm not a fucking idiot," he added, sniffing.

Spike's thumb had stopped moving and his eyes had gone from wide-open to narrow - to pissed _off_ and Xander cringed a little under that basilisk gaze.

"You think _this_ is what I do?" Spike's voice was low and hissing and Xander flinched again.

"Well - yeah. You - make 'em feel good, don't you? Make 'em...want you." 

Spike just stared at him, as unmoving as a statue and Xander started to inch away, aware that something bad was probably going to happen. His skin was hot, and his legs felt too far away - felt rubbery.

"You think I'm...treating you like some...trick."

"Aren't you? We're gonna leave soon - go back to S-sunnydale and..." Xander turned on his side - grabbed one of Spike's pillows and curled around it. His head was swimming. The familiar - _comforting_ \- scent on the pillowcase filled his nostrils and he breathed in deeply - peered at Spike over the bunched case. Spike was still staring at him, but the _'kill you now'_ intensity of his stare had dimmed a bit to _'maybe I'll just make you cry instead'_.

_An' I probably will. Fuck. This is just so pathetic. I **knew** this was a bad idea…._

"What does this have to do with _Sunnydale?_ " Spike asked, and Xander sighed, exasperated.

"Hello - Hellmouth! Where the _Slayer_ lives? The girl you've been stalking for - months?"

"I have not," Spike snapped. "I've been _here_ for months, watching out for the Niblet and _you_." Spike stared at him and then he sighed heavily, running his fingers back through his hair. "We _talked_ about this, Xander. You said - this isn't true love or anything."

"No, _you_ said that," Xander mumbled into the pillow. He felt - fuzzy. Hot and fuzzy, like a...like a bear.

"You feel like a bear?" Spike asked, and his voice was so bewildered that Xander laughed. And then he stopped and took in a hitching breath, because Spike's hand was back on his knee, cold on his heated skin, nearly weightless.

"I told you...stuff like this never turns out well. I _like_ you, Spike," Xander said, trying to convey what he really meant. Not actually _sure_ what he really meant, but knowing it was true. He liked Spike - a lot. And he was…. 

_I am so very fucked._ He watched Spike frown a little, his head to one side.

"Harris…." Spike said helplessly, and Xander pushed his face into the pillow and shut his eyes - tried not to want...anything.

"I really like you, Spike. You said you wouldn't hurt me," he added, barest whisper, and he heard Spike heave another breathy sigh. Then the bed was shaking a little and Spike was shifting - was curling up behind him, tucking Xander up in his arms, chin on the crown of Xander's head and his body touching at every point down Xander's back. One cool hand stroked down his shoulder and arm - found his own hand and curled around it, thumb rubbing lightly over and over his knuckles.

"I _won't_ , pet. Won't hurt you. You don't love me, Xander...and neither does she, yeah? It was all - for nothing. You just...just sleep a little now and we'll talk about it later."

Xander wanted to protest that - _'you don't know how I feel!'_ but did he _really_ feel that way, anyway? The stresses of the past few days and the upheaval he felt to his very soul - _and the whiskey_ \- all combined to make his limbs heavy as stone, his eyes impossible to open. He sighed, his breath catching a little, and Spike's arm hugged him tighter, and then he slipped sideways and down into sleep.

 

_Foolish, stupid… **boy**. Human boy...scared boy…._ Spike sighed, and pushed his face gently into the swath of loosely curling hair that lay over Xander's shoulder, breathing in the scent of himself and the boy mingled together.

_Christ, what is he saying to me? What is he...? He can't **feel** anything for me - he hates me!_ But Spike, Slayer of Slayers and William the Bloody, the vampire who'd not only hunted with Angelus and Darla but survived them, too - didn't lie to himself. Others, hell yes, at the drop of a hat. To _himself_ \- never. 

Xander hadn't actually hated him for a long time - for months, truth be told. It had been a slow shifting of perspective - a gradual awakening to some facts that had previously been ignored or maybe just...deliberately overlooked. But Xander _didn't_ hate. Xander trusted him, and _liked_ him, and by all that was sacred and profane, the boy was as sweet in bed as any Spike had ever had. Sweeter, even, because he came to Spike all new and untried and _willing_ , with nothing held back and no hidden agenda.

_And that's a first, isn't it? 'Cause when has anybody ever just said 'here, take me' and not asked - demanded - for something back?_ Spike sighed again, and shifted a little closer, soaking up heat from Xander like a snake on a rock and Xander moved slightly in his sleep, inching closer. God, it felt good.

_He's going **back**. He's going to be with his mates again and he's going to...forget about this. Forget that we almost made a family, forget everything... ._

Fuck. Who was the foolish, scared boy now? He sounded...much too much like William, a hundred and more years ago when he'd told Angelus he and Dru were to be together forever. That it was destiny. Angelus had laughed - had taken Dru away into the other room and he'd had to listen to them fucking the rest of the night.

_Angelus isn't here, now - it's just the Watcher and the Slayer and red-witch who'll laugh...and Xander…. Fuck, fuck, **fuck**_. Spike shoved it all aside - wished he'd taken a drink of that damn whiskey himself. It was mid-afternoon, and he was still tired, and he just - _Just wanted a little more time…_ he thought, and closed his eyes, and told himself to sleep. 

When Spike woke again he could tell it was hours later - near evening - and he could hear Xander on the phone in the other room. He didn't listen too closely, just eased over into the space Xander had left, feeling the last bit of heat wisping away and trying to capture it. Xander stopped talking - turned off the phone and came to lean in the doorway. 

"You awake?" 

"Yeah. Who called?" Spike sat up a little, resting on one elbow. Xander was only in his jeans, the fly and button not even done up. Spike's gaze tracked the long, straight hairs that made a path from his navel to the thicker hair at his groin. Xander's heart kicked up a notch and he looked back up at the boy's face. 

"It was Dawn. She - wanted to spend the night next door, I told her it was fine." Xander hesitated for a long moment and then he came forward and sat on the edge of the bed. He looked down at his knees, his hands knotted between them, and Spike resisted the urge to reach out and stroke his back. 

"Spike, I - I'm sorry. For earlier. I didn't mean to freak out -" 

"S'okay...." Spike murmured, and he went ahead and reached out - ran his fingers lightly down Xander's back, pausing to rub gently at the small of his back. Xander shivered just a little. His heart was pounding harder now, and Spike could smell the surge of nervous sweat that broke out on him. "Pet, what is it?" 

"Listen, Spike. I - I want.... I don't...want...togobacktoSunnydale." He gasped the last bit out and squeezed his eyes shut, head bowed, and Spike took a moment to play it back over in his mind - sort the babble into words. 

"You _don't_ want -? I don't - understand." He kept his hand rubbing in slow, slow circles despite the leap of excitement in his belly. 

Xander sighed and sagged back into his touch a little, his hands clenched tight enough to make his knuckles white. He opened his eyes but kept his gaze firmly fixed on his hands. 

"Look, there's just - there's nothing _there_ for me! I don't have a job anymore, or a place to live...and I'm _not_ moving back in with my parents. Anya has moved on in such a big way it's not even funny, and I don't want that now, anyway...if I ever really did...." He stopped, biting his lip, and Spike just watched him, waiting. 

_Waiting for what? For him to say he wants...this? Us? Not his one true love. Not his soul mate. He's just a sweet boy, just...fuck...just lonely._

"Can I - can I come back with you? Drive back? And you could just...take me somewhere... I had a job up in Oxnard for a while, maybe I could -" 

"Xander...." Spike stopped him - stopped himself. Ruthlessly squashed the excitement that was coiling through him - the emotions he wasn't sure he wanted to feel, again. "You're mates are waiting for you, though. Slayer an' Red - they'll be happy to see you." 

"Well, sure. For a few days. And then it'll be back to _'Xander, what job did you get fired from today'_ and… _'Are you dating someone yet?'_ and...Willow thinks she can fix everything with cookies and Buffy just doesn't wanna know and... I just - can't do that anymore, Spike." 

Xander's fingers kept twisting around themselves and he kept staring at them. "I _liked_ being here! I liked - being somewhere different, and...and taking care of Dawn... Made me feel...like I could really do something. Like I was worth...something. You know?" He finally looked up at Spike, his eyes huge and dark and full of longing - full of _need._

_Oh fuck. Jesus Christ, yeah. I know what that feels like, love, I know…._ Spike stared back, unsure of what, exactly, he wanted to say and he saw the shutters go up - saw the shield lift, hiding the bruised little boy behind dented steel. 

"I guess...you'd rather go back alone, huh?" Xander mumbled and Spike sat up fast - put his hand on Xander's shoulder and squeezed, just a little. 

"Now hang on, pet. Not what I said. In fact, I didn't say anything, did I? I'm just... I'm surprised, is all. You really - don't want to go back? Go back home?" 

Xander shrugged, looking down at his hands again - slowly uncurling them. "This place has felt more like home - like a _real_ home - than Sunnydale has in a long, long time." He looked back up at Spike and the need and longing were back, and Spike could feel his resolve crumbling - his denial slipping. 

_Won't last, won't last.... First human I take out, he'll bolt…. First time I kiss him with blood on my lips he'll scurry for home.... Oh **fuck** but I want him._ Spike was utterly bewildered. His _feelings_ , his damnable, laughable, _human_ feelings - had gone from grudging respect to lust to...affection. And his happiness at having a family - even a temporary, not-quite-right one had become a craving. An addiction. He couldn't do _without_ now. Didn't want to. 

_I'm the one said I wasn't his...one true love and here I am actin' like a soddin' girl…. Acting like...a lonely boy. Christ. We're a pair, we are.... Always hated being alone._

"I'm goin' back, you know. Stuff there I need to get - some things I...don't wanna leave behind. After that, though.... I'm leaving, Xander. I'm done with the Hellmouth and everything in it." 

Xander gaped at him. "You.... But, you love Buffy! Aren't you - aren't you gonna go back and, you know - stalk her some more?" Tiny bit of a smile in the corner of the boy's mouth and Spike laughed softly. 

"My Slayer-stalking days are over, pet. I got out of there - got away from her and.... Realized a few things. It's over. It never really was and now it's...over. I'm gonna do a little traveling. Like the old days, with Dru. Think you can handle that?" 

Xander's full-on smile, when it came, was slow and sweet and wide open - full of untarnished joy and blooming hope. "Yeah, I can handle that, Spike. I can handle...a lot." And he shot a look of utter wantonness at Spike. 

"Oh, I'll bet you can, pet... Bet you can. Wanna show me what you can handle?" Spike grinned, and Xander finally _relaxed_ , and leaned over Spike, laughing. His kiss was confident - devouring - and Spike lay back under him and let him do what he wanted. Let him trace over every inch of Spike's body with his lips and his tongue and his teeth; the rough skin of this callused fingers rubbing with delicious friction over Spike's nipples and ribs and hip-bones - over the insides of his thighs and the tip of his cock. 

Xander - a child of his generation - seemed fascinated by Spike's uncut state and explored with wide-eyed wonder until Spike thought he was going to explode. 

"Christ - Xander - you gotta...do something… _fuck!_ " Spike bucked and froze when Xander's mouth closed around the tip of his cock, the heat and slippery slide of it making him pant for breath he didn't need. 

"That any good?" Xander murmured, lips buzzing against him and Spike twisted the sheets in his fists, his hips just working, slide and twist and grind, totally out of his control. 

"It's lovely, pet, it's - fuckin' brilliant -" 

"Mmmm…." Xander hummed, sinking a little lower, his teeth catching a tiny bit and his mouth like liquid flame. His hands were stroking Spike's belly - pinching at his nipples and then dragging down his body to his thighs. Xander stroked the sensitive skin in the crease between thigh and groin and then took Spike's balls in his hands, kneading lightly, tugging and rolling, and Spike pulled his legs up, letting his knees fall open wide, sobbing in a breath. 

"Xander, please love, need you to -" Xander's eyes flicked up to look at him - a wanton's look from under thick lashes and ruffled locks of hair. His own body was writhing slowly on the sheet, oiled in sweat and all but drowning Spike in musk and anise and salt-sweet scent. 

_God, oh God, just his mouth, just…_

"What do you n-need, Spike?" Xander whispered, his breath shivering over Spike's belly and Spike sat up, lifting Xander by the shoulders so he could kiss him - fuck his tongue into that mouth and taste their mingled flavors. 

"Wanna fuck me, pet? Like you did before? I want _that_ \- want your heat in me -" 

Xander's eyes were dilated nearly black - his cock was slicked with pre-come and dark with blood, and when Spike put his hand there and stroked Xander quivered all over. 

"Fuck - yeah, I - God, _God!_ " Spike froze, and Xander did, and then Xander was scrambling over him to grab the little jar of unguent they'd used before. The ginger-musk-cinnamon of the cream hit them both and Xander breathed deeply - scooped out two fingers-full and smoothed it over himself. 

"That's all you need, love, c'mon now - Xander, c'mon -" Spike just wanted him, just wanted him _in_ , just wanted him to push that heat inside him - surround him with it - weigh him down. He pulled his knees up, waiting, and Xander rubbed the last of the cream over Spike's cock, panting now. He lined himself up and pushed slowly - so slowly. 

"Oh, fuck...." he breathed, eyes closing, back arching, and Spike pulled his knees wider - arched his hips up as far as he could, willing the boy to _move_ , for fuck's sake. 

"Xander - Xander, just do it, just -" 

"Yeah -" Xander sounded dazed and suddenly he _pushed_ , sliding home, and Spike heard a thin, breathy wail come out of his own mouth, the burn and stretch and pressure almost too much, for a moment. Xander pushed hard against him, pelvis tight to Spike's ass and then he started to thrust and Spike just gave in, gave up - put his calves over Xander's shoulders and pulled him close and kissed him breathless. The salt-anise taste of Xander's skin was like a drug and Spike licked his throat and collarbones - licked his chest and jaw and kissed him again and again, clenching around the bar of solid heat that was sending him to Nirvana. 

"Right? Is this right?" Xander gasped, angling his hips a little, hitting _that_ spot and Spike felt the demon rise, snarling and open-mouthed. Heard Xander's heart skitter-thump and then pound faster. 

"Yeah, there, there - gods you're lovely, so lovely pet, so _fuckin'_ good - hard as you like pet, God...Xander, Xander...." _Babbling like a fool and fuckin' **look** at him, like a fuckin' angel, like... oh yes, oh there…._

"Spike - sssss...Spike!" Xander's pounding rhythm suddenly tripped and fumbled and re-doubled and Xander's skin was gooseflesh and his eyes were wide and unseeing and Spike felt the pulse of him inside his body - felt the sudden, extra swelling and the jet of liquid heat and he _roared_ , lifting his hips as best he could, fingers scrabbling at the sheets and then at Xander's ribs and back and Xander's hand was on his cock, stroking hard and rough and _fuck.…_

It was ten minutes recovering from that, and Spike let his mouth move in lazy circles over Xander's shoulder and bicep - over his throat. The weight on him was pleasant, as was the warm throb of battered muscle between his legs and when Xander finally slipped free of him they both sighed. 

"Spike...want you to do that to me. Next time, do that to me. You looked -" Xander lifted his head, flushed and sweaty, and his eyes were full of laughter and awe. "You looked like you were in heaven or.... Or something." 

"Or something, pet. I can do that for you, Xan. I can do that no problem." Spike smiled and put his arms around Xander's body - rolled them on their sides and snuggled the boy under his chin, one leg possessively over Xander's and his arms tight around him. "Gonna be good, pet. Me and you, it's gonna be good." 

He could feel Xander smiling into his chest, and he smiled himself and drifted slowly into sleep, counting heartbeats. 

Waiting at the airport for Buffy and Giles to clear customs, Xander thought he might be sick. He didn't want to tell them - what he was going to tell them. He didn't want to see the _looks_ he was sure he was going to get - the arguments. He just wanted them to collect Dawn and _go_. He'd never felt so rattled - so shaken - and it didn't help that he had a bruise on his forearm. A bruise from Spike; a bruise from _sex_. He kept running his thumb over it - pressing it very gently so he could feel that residual ache. Cuddling in Spike's bed that whole night - talking some, but mostly just breathing, just touching. 

They'd had sex again, somewhere in there - slow sex, with Spike on top of him, riding him, arching his back and pressing his fingers tight into Xander's chest. Murmuring to him in that honey-and-whisky voice, telling him he was lovely, brilliant, beautiful, _'oh beautiful, pet, so fuckin' good….'_

It still made a pleasant, twisting shiver go through Xander's belly and groin when he imagined Spike's voice in his head, saying those things to him. 

_God, is that another secret vampire power? That fucking **voice**? Jesus…. _

Standing next to him, right up against the edge of where they were permitted to go, Dawn was practically vibrating with excitement. They'd sat down the night before and told her that Xander wanted to drive back with Spike - keep him company - and Dawn had been surprisingly okay with it. Xander had sagged with relief and given her a hug, and she had gone off to go over her packed bags one more time, to see if she'd left anything out or could cram one more gift into them. 

And Spike had kissed him right there at the kitchen table, his mouth sweet with fresh coconut and palm fruit, his fingers tight on Xander's arm. 

Xander sighed, and slid his hand away from the bruise, and suffered a poke to the ribs as Dawn saw Buffy and Giles striding forward with the crowd. They were at once completely familiar and at the same time utterly foreign. Xander felt the tension wind a notch tighter in his belly and he swallowed and grabbed Dawn's arm and pulled her around to where Giles and Buffy were coming through. 

"Buffy!" Dawn threw herself into Buffy's embrace and they just stood like that, hugging, Buffy murmuring something into Dawn's ear and Dawn shaking - sniffling. Giles smiled on them for a moment and then he turned to Xander, and Xander saw something - shock? surprise? - go through his eyes. 

"Xander - so good to see you! You're looking - remarkably well!" Giles held out his hand and Xander took it - shook it hard, wishing he could hug the older man but knowing Giles wasn't up for that. 

"Hey, thanks, Giles! I guess. You - uh - you look the same." Giles _didn't_ look the same, actually. There was a little more grey in his hair than before but there was also...a lack of tension. As if Glory being gone and Dawn being safe and the Council coming around had eased something. Or maybe he was just glad to be off the plane. 

"Xander -" It was Buffy, reaching out to him with Dawn still tucked under one arm and he went gratefully to hug her, wincing a little when Slayer strength squished his ribs but holding on tight for as long as he could. 

"I can't believe - Dawn looks _great!_ She's so tan! And I swear she's taller - so not fair!" Buffy's eyes were wet and she wiped them with her fingers - laughed a little and wiped Dawn's cheeks as well, because Dawn was crying too. Then Dawn squealed and flung herself at Giles, hugging him, and Xander looked Buffy over. She looked the same - mostly. Her hair was shorter, and a little blonder. Her face was a little fuller. 

_Council pay agrees, I guess. Better than some crappy minimum wage job._

"You look great too, Buffy. How's everybody? How's Willow? Is she doing okay? And Tara?" 

"Oh, Willow's great - you should see her! She got her hair cut, this cute little bob - " Chattering, they moved slowly away down the concourse. Buffy and Giles had only small carry-on bags since they were leaving again the day after tomorrow. Dawn had insisted that stay just _one_ day so she could introduce them to the neighbors and the ladies down at the market and the dress shop and the book store. And she wanted to take Buffy all over the city - show her how well she could get around - how well she could speak the language. Proud of herself and wanting to show off. Spike had encouraged her in it, even though Xander had seen the twist of his lips when Dawn had first brought it up the idea of her sister staying. 

They were taking the bus, something that made Giles' eyebrows go up, but he and Dawn were old hands now, and Xander got them on the right one and into seats with ease. Dawn and Buffy just kept talking, with Dawn bouncing in her seat and pointing out the window - telling stories that she'd only get halfway through and then something would distract her and she'd be off again, making Buffy laugh. 

Giles watched them for a mile or so and then turned to Xander, his expression a little bemused. "So tell me, Xander, how has it really been? How has - has Spike treated you?" 

Xander blinked at the man and took a deep breath. "Well, like I said in the emails, Giles - Spike's been great. Working at that - that bar, taking care of the bills and getting our house.... I got a job too, but since I didn't have a passport or anything it was all under the table, you know." 

Xander rubbed his thumb over the ridges of the calluses on his finger and palm from smoothing and sanding and finishing the pretty little details of the furniture he helped make. Custom stuff that was expensive and well made. But he _still_ didn't pull in half the money Spike did. Not that he'd admit to that. He didn't think Giles would believe Spike could make _that_ much at a bar. And the company he worked for installed things, too - custom built kitchens and things - and that was expensive in the States, so Giles would believe he got paid more than he did. 

"Carpentry, Willow said?" Giles gaze was mild, but the tension was back in him, just a little. 

"Well, more like finishing stuff. Custom furniture and stuff like that. Detail work. I really like it." 

Giles nodded distractedly, looking out the window for a moment. "And Dawn? How has he...treated her?" 

"Like - like a brother, Giles. Look, is there some problem? 'Cause Spike's been great. Like I _said_." Xander felt his hand close down on his arm - felt the little soreness from the bruise. 

_And he's been letting me fuck him. And he kissed me - kissed me like…like he **wanted** me. Said I could come with him. Don't - don't make me mad at you Giles, please…._

Giles sighed, rubbing his thumb over his forehead in a gesture so familiar that Xander felt a little pang in his heart. "I just.... Well, it's just hard to believe that _Spike_ , of all people...." Giles didn't seem to know how to finish that sentence and Xander didn't know how, either. Spike - was different. Had _been_ different, all along, and the longer Xander had been with him, the more clearly he'd seen it. And the hate...had just made him so _tired_ sometimes. Tired like he'd been around Larry, or his dad; you always had to be alert, on edge - _waiting_ \- for something awful to happen. And it never had, with Spike. Physically he'd never done more to Xander than knock him unconscious. 

_And he could have drained me on the spot, but he didn't. He dragged my unconscious body along to the factory and he let us go...he could have just **left** us there, but he told Buffy where we were... And Glory...and coming here…. And I can't tell Giles any of this. He'll think I'm nuts. Oh God - telling them is going to suck._

Giles seemed to be as lost in thought as Xander was and he was grateful that the rest of the trip was made in silence. 

Walking down their street, Dawn was practically dancing, pointing out the little park where she liked to have picnics, talking about the fireworks that had bloomed and burned over the Gulf. Buffy looked _relaxed_ \- she looked happy, and Giles was starting to unwind again, and they were almost there when suddenly Serafina was popping out of the little courtyard to their house, a huge bouquet of flowers in her arms, her fancy go-to-the-dance white lace dress sparkling in the sun. 

She rattled off a greeting and presented the flowers to Buffy with a kiss and in the confusion of bouquet-giving and introductions and translations and Serafina's _mother_ , for God's sake, coming out and shaking hands Xander took a few steps away and drew in a huge, ragged breath, trying to calm down. 

He looked up at their house and - Spike was there, a pale and indistinct figure in the window that was his bedroom. Xander found his hand going up, unconscious gesture, and for a moment he thought Spike smiled. But then he was gone, the blind and curtain falling back into place and Xander sighed. 

The house was a surprise for Buffy and Giles, Xander could tell. 

_What, did they think we'd be in some kind of...rattrap or something? I told them -_

Xander smothered his irritation at their repeated _' **This** is where you live?'_ as they walked through the little, arching gateway and crossed the garden to the stairs, Dawn happily telling them about Spike helping her dig holes for the little fruit trees and flowering bushes she'd planted. The first floor was under construction - the landlord was doing some renovation - but being up on the second floor had always felt...safer, to Xander. Like a nest. 

Going inside brought more exclamations from Buffy, but Giles seemed to shut down a little, his eyes flicking warily over the rooms. 

_Looking for Spike, that's what he's doing._

Spike, of course, delayed coming out and when he did it was with a carefully blank look on his face and a stiff-backed prowl to the kitchen for whiskey. He leaned in the doorway, his eyes hooded and wary. 

"Spike! Look what Serafina had for Buffy - aren't they beautiful? And her mother's invited us for dinner tonight - came you come?" Dawn displayed the flowers to Spike and his expression fell into familiar lines - affection and pride and pleasure. 

"That was nice of her, Bit. I have to work tonight, but you go and have dinner," Spike said, touching Dawn's cheek and Xander saw both Giles and Buffy stiffen. 

"You sure?" Dawn asked, pouting just a little, and Spike nodded. 

"I'm sure. You should show big sis your room, Niblet - show her how pretty you made it." Spike's eyes flickered to Buffy and away, and Xander felt his stomach clench. 

"Spike -" Buffy said, and there was a question in her voice - a question and _anger_ , and Spike slowly turned his gaze to her, the animation going out of his expression as if a switch had been thrown. 

"Slayer," he said, and his voice held the faintest hint of amusement. And then he turned and went back into his room and shut the door and Xander was pretty sure _he_ was about to drop dead from a heart attack. 

Dinner was wonderful - Serafina's mother, Ave Diosdado was an amazing cook - but Xander couldn't taste any of it, and he kept glancing out the Diosdado windows, wondering if he'd see Spike on his way out. But he didn't. The knot in his stomach had grown to epic proportions and by the time Dawn, Buffy and Giles were in bed - Giles was sleeping in Xander's room - he felt like he might be sick. 

He took a long, hot shower and then spent some time staring sightlessly at the television, hoping he'd fall asleep. But he couldn't, and finally he gave up with a sigh of disgust - fought his way out of the blankets he'd spread on the couch and wandered into Spike's room. The familiar, comforting scents of smoke and spice and leather enveloped him, and he sat down on the edge of the bed, breathing deeply. 

_I've really - fucked up. I'm going to tell Buffy and Giles I'm not going back with them and...they're going to fight with me and...and how do I tell them why without telling them...? I think I'm…._

Xander stopped that thought, and sighed, and closed his eyes - leaned over on the bed and curled himself around Spike's pillow. He'd just rest here for a while - relax. Then maybe he could sleep. In a few minutes his breathing had slowed to a steady rhythm, and he was asleep. 

Spike stood in the doorway to his room, watching Xander. Xander, who was twisted up in _Spike's_ covers, wrapped around _Spike's_ pillow. 

_Silly git. And what if the Slayer or the Watcher walked in here? He'd probably have heart-failure, tryin' to explain…._ Spike sighed and winced. Rough night and his ribs ached and his head and his ass. Fucker was out of control. Three more days. Three, that's all, then…. 

Spike smiled, imagining the carnage. He _was_ going to pay every last one of that little clique a visit when the fucking chip was out. But for now he had a warm boy in his bed, sighing softly, hair tousled over his cheek and neck, hand loosely splayed on the sheet. Spike stripped and showered, looking with a slow, seething rage at the cuts on his thighs - the bruises everywhere. He wondered if the Slayer would notice - if she'd think they were from fighting or fucking. 

_Watcher might notice - but then, what could he say? Christ, hope Xander calms down today._

The boy's frantic heartbeat had driven Spike half mad - he'd listened to it from across the room and wanted to go to him - touch his cheek and run his fingers through his hair and tell him it was all right. 

_Well, fuck. I'm well and truly lost, now aren't I...? This is only going to hurt, damnit. So tired of hurting…._

Spike toweled himself off roughly and stalked through the house to his room. The dim, saffron light of the rising sun was glowing behind his blinds as he curled into the bed behind Xander - snuggled close and took a deep breath of the sweet anise scent that was just _him_ , was just Xander. Warmth radiating back to him and soaking into him and Xander stirred - sighed - inched closer. 

"Spike," his voice fading and falling away, and Spike rumbled a noise down in his chest, purest pleasure. Xander jerked a little. "Spike?" 

"M'here, pet," Spike murmured, kissing his shoulder and Xander stiffened for a moment and then wormed closer, his hand finding Spike's and pulling it up to tuck under his chin. 

"Can't let them find me in here," he said, so soft, and Spike heaved a huge sigh, knowing the boy was right. But wanting just a little more - a little more of the heat, and the musky-sweet scent, and the faint salt and cloves taste of clean skin and soap. 

"I know, love, just let me...just for a minute...." Spike whispered and Xander nodded, making a little humming sigh of pleasure, one Spike couldn't help but copy. He closed his eyes and just held on. 

Something - touching him. A rough, shaking grip and Spike flinched away - learned response, awareness rocketing to the surface. But not fast enough. A voice - _'Buffy, don't -!'_ Touch again, harder, and he snarled and lashed out, instinct taking over, sending his fist into a body that yielded with an _'ooof'_ of expelled air and then _(no, no nonono!)_ acid and fishhooks, raking him from crown to heels and he _shrieked_ , arching hard off the bed. His eyes snapped open but he only saw flashes and flares of red - sparks of white as the pain arced through him. 

Then it was done, over. His whole body felt as if it were on fire and he propped himself up on one elbow, gasping in a breath, pushing his palm hard into his forehead in an effort to make the jagged bursts of residual pain _stop_. Even the dimness of his room was hurtfully bright right at that moment and he closed his eyes. There was a confused babble of voices - Xander, Dawn, Buffy, Giles. 

"Jesus, Buffy - told you _not_ -" 

"Buffy, you hurt him! I said I-" 

"Guys, it's just _Spike_ , he'll -" 

"Isn't that a bit of an _extreme_ -" 

And then Xander's voice over all, brittle with some emotion that Spike wanted desperately to be worry - to be.... 

"No, it's _not_ extreme, Giles! I still remember you almost clocking Willow that day when she surprised you in the library after - after what Angel did -" 

" _Angelus -_ " 

"Whatever! The point is - we told you not to touch him, Buffy; we just call his name from over here and he wakes up. That way nobody gets hurt." 

"Has someone _been_ hurt?" 

" _Yes_ , Giles, _Spike_ has been hurt." 

Spike felt a rusty, reluctant chuckle bubbling up in his chest and he stifled it. 

_That's it, boy - tell him! Why are you telling him? Did they find you in bed?_ His brain felt sluggish and too bruised to work right and he flopped back down onto the pillows, inhaling the lingering traces of anise and salt that meant _always_ meant Xander. 

_Never gonna shake this, how'd I let him get **in** so fast? Pathetic sod...anything for…._

But he wouldn't let that word form even in utter silence behind closed lids and he sighed in relief as the voices moved away - as Buffy and Giles and Dawn left the house. A moment later the edge of the bed sagged a little and he felt Xander's hand - hesitant and warm - stroking the hair back off his forehead - stroking through and through the rumpled strands. 

"Sorry, Spike. I tried to stop her -" 

"Mmm...." Spike opened his eyes and looked up at Xander - saw the defeated droop of his shoulders and the sadness that made his usually lively eyes dull and dark. "Not your fault, pet. Not much stops the Slayer when she wants to do somethin', you know? You tried. More than most would do." 

"I...I just…." Xander seemed to be having a sudden rush of severe self-doubt and Spike curled himself around Xander's hip and thigh - put his head on Xander's knee. 

_Get what you can. I'll let him off the hook, make it easy._

"Listen, Xander, you don't have to tell them - anything. You should just fly back with them. Easier all around, don't you think?" Spike felt Xander's hand stop - felt his body stiffen and his heartbeat skip up a couple of notches. 

"But - but I -" His voice was shaky and Spike sighed. 

"It's all right, pet, it'll be fine." 

"Stop it. _Stop it_ , Spike! Don't - oh, _fuck!_ " Xander jerked himself away and stood up fast, pacing to the window. 

_That's it, then. Go on and spit it out, boy…._

Spike curled into the lingering warmth left behind and rested his head on his folded arm. Trying not to look...as desperate as he felt. "Xander - " 

"No, wait. Do you _want_ me to - to go back with them? I thought...thought you -" Xander turned away from the window, curling his hands into fists, obviously trying for some sort of control. "I thought - you wanted m-me -" He stopped then, just looking at Spike - looking with those dead eyes, the color gone under his tan so he looked ill - looked - broken. 

_Oh, fuck. **Fuck**. It won't be good...can't be good…._

Spike wanted to tell him _'no'_ \- wanted to tell him go home to his family and his life. _Wanted_ to - tried to. But what came out of his mouth when he opened it to speak was the _truth_ , the damning truth and Spike was already seeing the miserable inevitability that would come from it. 

"Course I want you, love. I'd be daft not to." Xander just stared at him - stared for so long Spike wondered what, exactly, _had_ come out of his mouth. The _life_ suddenly flooding back into Xander's face was - sunlight through mist, all glowing edges and soft shadows and Xander smiled at him - smiled and took five long strides to the bed and kneeled down, and put that smile and that sunshine straight into Spike with a kiss as eager as it was all-consuming. Spike gave himself up to it, not caring, anymore, where it all might lead. The _now_ \- was too sweet to be denied. 

"So I've decided that - that what I'm going to do is go back with Spike. Ride back with him. Instead of you guys." Xander could feel his fingernails digging so hard into his knees he wondered if they'd actually gone through the denim. He braced himself and waited, watching his news percolate through their brains. Giles - got it. Buffy was - almost there - _ding!_

"Xander - are you _seriously_ saying that you want to stay down here and ride in that deathtrap for days with _Spike?_ " 

"Yeah, that's what I'm seriously saying, Buffy. I just -" 

"And Spike is _letting_ you," Giles interrupted, and Xander blinked and wet his lips. 

"Well, _yeah_ , he - he's fine with it. I can drive during the day like I did coming down here and -" 

" _Xander_. You do know Willow's waiting for you? I don't get it. Spike can get home just fine - _or_ stay here - Glory's gone, it's not like we _need_ him anymore -" 

"Buffy!" Dawn looked furious and Buffy looked over at her impatiently. 

"What? We _don't_ actually need him. It's not like I was all - helpless and stuff _before_ he got himself fixed! 

Xander wanted to slap Buffy for that - was glad that Spike was already gone for the night and couldn't hear her. And his stomach hurt. Literally hurt, because this...was worse than the yelling he'd expected. 

"Besides, Xander hates Spike. Why would he want to spend any _more_ time with him?" Buffy turned a sudden gimlet-eyed look on him, frowning. "Is he _blackmailing_ you? Did you - do something or - or is he holding something over your head -?" 

"Buffy! Jesus!" Xander shot to his feet, pacing away from them, pushing his hands back through his hair in frustration. _God_. What Buffy was saying was suddenly making him feel like he was a kid - like he was too stupid to realize just _what_ he was doing. "What in hell could he be _blackmailing_ me over? Do you think I've done something - something _bad_ or something? I mean -" 

"No, Xander, calm down." Giles sat forward on the couch, absently rubbing his forehead. "We know you didn't do anything...uh...illegal or - or _bad_ , but - you've been alone for some months and probably - very lonely and -" 

"I haven't been _alone_ , Dawn's been here and Spike's been here -" 

"And we're _friends_ -" Dawn added, but Buffy shushed her. 

"Fine, fine, you're all buddy-buddy. Which is really kinda weird." Buffy sighed and shook her head - looked at her watch. "It's late, and the plane leaves early. I dunno why you want to hang out with Spike but - fine - do it." She made a sort of throwing-away gesture with her hands. "Dawn's got school again in a couple of weeks, and I'm going back to school too, so...." 

"So what you're doing is more important, yeah," Xander said, shrugging, and Buffy looked pissed off for a moment. 

"Well if you were coming _back_ with us, you could do something - _important_ too! But you wanna stay down here, so - fine. I'm going to go get cleaned up and go to bed. C'mon Dawn, let's go pack those shirts we bought." Buffy stood up, impatient, and Dawn rose more slowly, biting her lip. Oh, so much worse than yelling, 'cause Buffy...just didn't care. 

"Are you - sure you... I mean, I'm gonna miss you, Xander. Why can't we get Spike a ticket?" Dawn turned to Giles, a pleading look on her face, but Xander interrupted the older man before he could answer. 

"Spike doesn't want to leave his car down here, Dawn. You know that. We won't be long behind - I'll bring you a souvenir from every state we drive through, okay?" 

Dawn sighed, but then she smiled a little at Xander, looking tired. "Yeah, okay. I just.... Okay." She started to follow Buffy out of the room and then darted back to hug Xander hard. "I'll miss you, is all," she whispered, and Xander hugged her back. 

"Miss you too, Dawnie. G'night." 

"'Night, Xander. 'Night, Giles." 

"Yes, yes, goodnight, Dawn." Giles rose as well and went into the kitchen - retrieved Spike's bottle from the cupboard and poured himself a drink. He leaned there against the counter and Xander leaned opposite, watching him. 

"You know, Xander.... When I was younger, I did - a lot of foolish things. Ethan Rayne comes to mind and Eyghon...." Giles took another sip, his eyes on some middle distance. "These things - made for trouble, in the end. They made me wish quite desperately that I'd done otherwise." Giles looked straight at Xander, his eyes mild and calm but _something_ there - some spark of something that Xander felt might burn him to a cinder if he wasn't careful. 

"Giles...." Xander stopped and considered _everything_. Considered the feeling of Spike curling up behind him in the bed, just wanting skin-on-skin, just wanting him _there_. Considered what Spike had been doing, these past three months. What _he_ had been doing. Considered how he'd felt only a week ago - and how he felt now. 

"I'm not doing anything I'll regret, Giles. I promise." He looked back at the older man with, he hoped, the same mild gaze and Giles finished his drink - set his glass in the sink and slid his glasses off, tucking them into his shirt. He stood there for a moment and then he shook his head ever so slightly. 

"Well. Goodnight then, Xander," he said, and turned and walked out of the kitchen. And his tone - his _look_ \- was so disappointed, so dismissive - Xander felt a rush of panic. Felt that he'd just lost - whatever he might have had with Giles. Whatever friendship they might have been growing between them. 

"Giles -" Xander said, but too soft. Giles was gone. For a moment Xander wanted him _back_. Wanted to tell him everything that had happened - wanted to confess how he felt and what he'd done - wanted to tell him everything about Spike. About _him_ and Spike. 

_If there even is such a thing…._

But - he didn't. He listened to Giles going into the bedroom - listened to Buffy and Dawn in the bathroom and then to Giles in the bathroom - listened to them settling and the house becoming silent. 

He could never tell Giles about what Spike had done - _was_ doing. About the blood-house, or the chip - any of it. And he didn't _want_ to tell Giles about Spike...about kissing him or holding him or just… _talking_ with him. That was _his_ , his own secret, his own little bit of warmth against the coldly dismissive Watcher and against Buffy's total _lack_ of caring. 

_Spike's mine. Not theirs. He...choose me over Buffy. I think. He… **asked** me, he.... I won't betray his secrets and I won't tell mine…._

That made him feel...totally alone. After awhile he went into Spike's room and curled up in the chair in the corner - let his eyes run over the books Spike had acquired while they were there. Volumes and volumes bound in dull, old leather - faded greens and blues and reds, dirty browns. One lay on the shelf out of place, with a piece of newspaper marking the page and Xander reached and picked it up - opened the book. 

_"...the General seized Martine's hand and held it for a long time without a word. At last he said:_  
_"I have been with you every day of my life. You know, do you not, that it has been so?"_  
_"Yes," said Martine, "I know that it has been so."_  
_"And," he continued, "I shall be with you every day that is left to me. Every evening I shall sit down, if not in the flesh, which means nothing, in spirit, which is all, to dine with you, just like tonight…."_

The words made his throat hurt for some reason, and he held the book and lay and his head on the chair - stared out the window at the lights of the city, waiting for Spike. 

"Xander? Wake up, pet...." Soft voice - soft fingers easing the book out of his grasp - brushing his hair back. "You need to wake up now," Spike said, and Xander sighed and burrowed a little closer into the heavy, silky fabric of the chair. 

"Don't want to," he whispered, and he heard Spike doing something - heard the heavy sound of his coat being tossed on the bed and then Spike was worming into the chair, dislodging Xander and pulling him half onto his lap - wrapping his arms around him and burying his face in Xander's hair. 

"Did you tell them, then?" 

Xander sighed again, opening his eyes. The room was lit with a dim, greyish-rose light and Spike smelled like whiskey and like blood - like oranges. "Yeah. I did." 

"So you been up half the night, havin' some sorta - argument?" Spike's mouth, close enough to his neck that he could feel the brush of cool lips, and breath stirring his hair. 

"No. They didn't - argue at all. Buffy was too concerned about getting back home and...Giles...." Xander let his eyes close again and fought the surge of anger and pain that came with the older man's name. 

"What about Rupert, pet?" Spike murmured, and his arms hugged a little tighter. 

"He - I think he kinda...knows. And he gave me - an out. Gave me a chance to tell him - everything - and tell him.... Tell him I'd made a mistake." Xander opened his eyes again because Spike's arms had squeezed just a little too tight for a moment. He looked at them, crossing over his belly, almost glowing in the filtered light, ugly bruises like dapples up his forearms. 

"What -" Spike started to say, and Xander squirmed in his grip - twisted and slid down until he was on his knees, his hands on the arms of the chair, Spike's thighs on either side of him. He leaned there for a moment, looking up the several inches into Spike's face. Watching the vampire turn his head away a little, watching the wide-open eyes shutter and darken. 

"I told him I didn't have any regrets. And he - walked away." 

Spike stared past him - stared at the window or the bookshelf for a long, long moment, and then he shifted and turned his head - looked at Xander with no expression on his face whatsoever. 

"So, you still gonna - come back with me?" Spike asked, and Xander let his hands slide down off the chair-arms and up Spike's forearms and biceps - let his fingers thread into Spike's mussed, ragged hair. Tugged him gently forward, until their foreheads were just touching. 

"Yeah. I am," he said quietly. "Wouldn't miss it for the world." He could _feel_ Spike smiling, and he lifted his head just a little and pressed his lips to Spike's - delicately kissed until Spike made a _hrummph_ sort of noise and pulled him in tight, kissing him hard. Kissing him like he just couldn't get enough. Xander knew _exactly_ how that felt. 

The house was so quiet, after they left. Still. 

_Like a tomb,_ Xander thought, which led inevitably to thoughts of Spike, the resident undead. 

_Doesn't even make me flinch, anymore. Undead. So what._

Xander stood on the balcony, knowing he was hiding, a little. It was just after nine in the morning and Spike couldn't come out after him - the balcony was flooded with the hard, hot sun of a late-summer day and it felt...really good. 

_But I'm still hiding. I'm alone with him now like I wanted to be but.... What do we - do?_

Xander felt just a little ridiculous but he couldn't force himself to go in, not just yet. He was still trying to process the morning, anyway. The goodbye scene which hadn't really been a scene but had been...something…. 

_"Dawn, we have to go in ten minutes! Are you ready?" Buffy impatiently checks her watch - pats the row of luggage by the door and then looks up, frowning, as Spike as Dawn walk into the living room. Spike is saying something - talking low in her ear - and Dawn is sniffling already._

_"Here now, none of that," Spike says gently, wiping at Dawn's face with his fingers and tucking her hair back behind her ear. Dawn just looks up at him, her eyes so big and hurt and lost, already. "Look, I've got you a present."_

_Spike is holding a - book? No - more like an album and Dawn takes it with a look of surprise - sits down on the couch and opens it. Xander leans over to see and Spike just watches Dawn._

_The album is full of pictures. The first is their house and Xander recognizes the picture they saw in the want ad - how it was before. Only this is a color picture, probably the one the realtor copied to make the ad. The house looks so - barren. The next page is a new picture of the house, only this time it looks as if it were taken days ago, with the plants and trees and flowers that Dawn picked out and they planted together - with the old stucco re-painted a soft terra-cotta, the rails and little benches and gate and archway all done in the turquoise Dawn liked so well._

_The rest of the pictures are the same; shots of the house as it was when they moved in - all dull walls and bare windows - and shots taken who knew when with the sun coming in soft and golden through the blinds, glowing on the walls. Spike's room in plum-red and amber, Xander's in the navy and cream and soft mocha-brown Dawn had persuaded him to. The gold and green kitchen, the bathroom all blues and pearls. And Dawn's room, yellows and creams and small, vivid bits of scarlet._

_Dawn wipes repeatedly at her eyes until she comes to the last page; herself and Serafina in their white party dresses, Xander and Dawn sprawled on the couch in 'movie-mode' and Spike, sitting and smoking at the kitchen table, small smile and tilt of his head. Then she just breaks down and sobs, and Spike moves instantly to kneel beside her and rub her shoulder - offer a tissue from the box on the end table._

_"Please come back with us, Spike -" Dawn wails, and Spike looks taken aback - looks uneasily at Xander and hugs Dawn gently. Buffy is watching from the door and silently fuming - Giles is staring silently out the double doors to the balcony, probably not seeing the white-capped water of the Gulf or the ships that are churning slowly by, his shoulders tense under his light summer shirt._

_"Now Bit, you know I can't. Can't leave my darling down here, can I? It'd be a heap of rust in a month, pet. I'll be back before you know it. Now pull yourself together, Dawn; don't want to be all splotchy on the plane. Go wash your face, yeah?"_

_"Spike! Stop that! Stop trying to just - just -"_

_Spike sighs, offering more tissues, and Dawn snatches a handful and mops her face. "It can't be helped, pet, so better to just leave off, yeah? Just - don't think about it. Look - you've got pictures of all your hard work right here to show your mates back home. Bet they'll be askin' you to do their rooms up next, yeah? And Serafina said she'd come see you soon, and -"_

_"I’m not a **child** , Spike!" Dawn says, but the wobble in her voice betrays her. She swallows and clenches her fists around the sodden tissues. "You don't have to distract me with - with **toys**." Her voice is hard but her hand is gentle with the album - closing it carefully and stroking its red leather cover. "This is really nice," she says, but then skewers Spike with a hard look. "You **are** coming back, right?"_

_Spike makes an astonished face - manga-eyes and open mouth - and Xander almost laughs. Buffy makes some sort of snorting noise. "Bit! How could you? Would I lie to you?"_

_"Of course you would, Spike. It's time to go, Dawn." Buffy strides over and snatches the album - crams it into the top of Dawn's carry-on and jerks the draw-string tight. "Go use the bathroom if you need to, the taxi's here and we have to go."_

_Dawn stares up at her for a minute and then she grabs Spike in a huge, hard hug, burying her face in his neck. Spike shoots Buffy a glare - a kind of 'don't you **dare** ' look - and hugs her back just as hard._

_"I'll miss you. Be careful and - and take care of Xander, please don't - don't let him get hurt. And - I love you, Spike," Dawn gasps out, then she's pushing to her feet and running for the bathroom and Spike is left crouching there, a look of utter disbelief and wonder on his face. Five minutes later they're gone, and Xander waves a last time from the balcony._

Xander shifted a little and sighed - leaned on the railing, idly watching the Gulf and a handful of gulls dart and dive, finding lunch in the sand near an outdoor café. 

"Going to hide out there all day, pet?" Spike's voice was like a caress of cool velvet and Xander shivered a little - turned and looked into the house, waiting for his eyes to adjust. Spike was standing there in his oldest jeans and tightest t-shirt, his hair still mussed from his shower, his eyes sunk a little into bruised-looking sockets. 

Nobody had said a word about the ladder of cuts going up his arms, but now Xander felt a slow, twisting knot of anger in his gut. He pushed away from the rail and went straight up to Spike - hesitated for one long moment and then hugged him close. Spike's arms came up around him immediately and he made a small gasping sound. 

"Fuck, you're so _hot_ , that feels so good -" Spike was burrowing into him - getting his hands and arms up under Xander's shirt, searching for the sun-bought heat and Xander let him - pressed close and just held on. 

"C'mon to bed with me, pet, yeah? You gotta start keepin' vampire hours an' I'm…." Spike didn't finish that but Xander knew what he was saying. Not _'I'm tired'_ , although he probably was but; _'I don't want to be alone. I'm cold. I'm...lost.'_

It was how _Xander_ was feeling anyway, and he went willingly along with Spike to the warm, ruddy-gold of his room. Somehow, taking off his clothes didn't make him feel self-conscious anymore, and slipping into the musky, smoky nest of sheets and blanket was a relief. Spike pulled him on top - got arms and one leg around him and it was like a cocoon almost except Xander didn't care. He pushed his face into Spike's neck and just breathed in the scent that was rapidly becoming the scent of _home_ to him - of comfort and safety. 

"I hope Dawn's okay," he murmured, and Spike's arms tightened around him. 

"She'll be fine, pet. Niblet's stronger than she looks. You'll see." 

Spike's hands were rubbing in slow, easy sweeps up and down Xander's back and he shifted and sighed and kissed the smooth skin that was under his mouth. "Spike…." he said, and then didn't know what else to say. 

"What is it, love?" Spike murmured. 

"I...I want..." Xander stopped again, feeling a rush of blood to his face - to his whole body. He knew exactly what he wanted, but _asking_ \- was hard. Asking opened him up for rejection. 

"Ask me, Xander. Anything you want." 

_Don't be so stupid - he's right here! He's holding on like...like you want him to hold on. Just…._

"You said - next time... You said you would - show me...what it's like?" 

There was a moment's silence from Spike and then he shifted a little and Xander felt a cool hand under his chin, lifting his head. 

"You want me to - be inside you, pet? Is that what you're asking?" Spike's eyes were dark in the dim room - were half-shut and fathomless and Xander couldn't make a sound, so he just nodded - stretched forward a little and kissed Spike's jaw, then his lips, slow and soft. 

"Please?" His voice cracked a little and he paused, taking a long breath in. "I... It feels like I just…." 

_Want you to be in charge. Want you to just take care of me - just for a little while. Just - long enough. Please…._

"Course I will, love," Spike whispered, and Xander shuddered with relief and longing, kissing Spike again only deeper, and harder. 

_God...please don't let it hurt. Please let me do this right…._

"I can hear your heart, pet - it's beating like a drum. You're not afraid of me, are you?" Spike asked, and Xander shook his head - took another deep breath, letting his forehead fall to Spike's shoulder. 

"No, I'm just - I don't wanna - mess this up." 

Spike laughed but it was quiet, not mocking. "Told you already - you can't. But this is for me to do, yeah?" Spike rolled them both a little - got Xander on his side and got himself up on his elbow and leaned there, looking at him. Xander couldn't stop the hand that reached out and lightly traced the curve of collarbone and pectoral and bicep. "Trust me, pet?" Soft question - easy question, really. So frighteningly easy to answer. 

"Yeah. I do," Xander replied, and Spike smiled. 

_"Slow, pet. Got all day, we'll go real...slow...."_

_Spike's hands on Xander's back, rubbing and pressing and stroking, making him feel as limp and boneless as a rag. If he could purr he would, but since he can't he makes no effort to stifle the soft, moaning sounds of pleasure that Spike's hands draw out of him. He can feel Spike's cock, cool and slippery-damp and so, so hard brushing and dipping over his back, his buttocks, the backs of his thighs. Making him squirm, making him shudder._

_He eases his legs open, wider and wider, wanting that touch there, oh right **there** , and Spike is husking pleased little murmurs of praise and encouragement in his ear - is pushing the tip of his cock gently into the crease there, rubbing and pressing but not actually breaching the muscle and it's all Xander can do not to scream._

_"Like this, Xander? Like this, right here?" Spike's fingers - god, **inside** him - slow, slick glide and teasing twist and pressure and oh **God** , oh God -_

_"Sss...pike...ohhh…." Xander is face-down on the bed, hair in his face, fingers clutched tight in the sheets. His thighs are over Spike's, his knees slipping on the covers, and Spike is rubbing his back and slowly fucking into him. Touching, inside, some little place that makes Xander's whole body fizz and coil and buck. He's already come once like this and he feels as heavy as a sated lion._

_But this time he wants to feel Spike's weight - wants to feel Spike's chest against his back and Spike's belly tight to his buttocks. Wants to feel Spike's cock, wider than fingers, pushing him to orgasm._

_"Please, can you -" Xander whispers, and Spike's fingers twist out and then his cock is pushing in instead, slow and insistent, bigger and softerharder and so **different** , and Spike is pushing Xander's legs up further, is lifting his hips so Xander is on his knees and it feels...feels…._

_"Xander...pet, that's lovely, you're lovely," Spike breathes, arms around Xander's ribs holding him tight, his mouth at the nape of Xander's neck, his hips moving slow and sweet and easy; cushion of slippery lube and blood-heated, blood-swollen flesh._

_Xander can feel his body opening to Spike - can feel the muscles pulling Spike in and **God** , that spot, pressed and rubbed by the broader head of Spike's cock. So different from his fingers, somehow more intense and Xander is aware that he's gasping - whimpering - is aware that somehow he's gotten one of Spike's hands in his, fingers laced and held tight, tight._

_It feels good, so good; not just the delirious, body-shivering fact of Spike **in** him, but the weight of him, the crush of him, holding him still, holding him **safe** \- holding him close and gentle and...loved. He feels loved. Even if he's not._

Xander turned in the bed, stretching, smiling to himself, and snuggled back into Spike. The _feeling was good enough - he wasn't going to question it, he was just going to revel in it for as long as he could. The next time he woke up Spike was awake as well; smoking a cigarette, one arm casually around him. Xander blinked sleepily at the slow ribbon of blue smoke that rose up and up in the amber air, his cheek warm against Spike's chest._

__

__

"Want you to come with me tonight," Spike said, as if continuing a conversation they've been having and Xander looked up at him, frowning. 

"Huh? Go where with you?" 

"To the house," Spike said, tamping out his smoke. Then he turned and looked down at Xander and his eyes were hooded and unreadable - his face tense. 

"You mean - to the - you mean to where you work?" Spike nodded shortly and Xander reached up and scratched at his cheek, feeling stubble rasping a little under his fingers. "Well, okay, but... Why do you want me to come?" 

"I just...." Spike sighed, tucking his arm under his head and blinking up at the ceiling, looking less then happy. "I want you to see...how it is. How I work. So you know." 

Xander thought about that for a minute - thought about his little 'episode' a few days earlier, and the assumption he had made. "Oh. _Oh_. You want me to.... Okay. Yeah. Spike?" 

"Yeah, pet?" 

Xander hoisted himself up so he could kiss collarbones and biceps and the smooth line of Spike's pale throat, and Spike closed his eyes and smiled a little, humming under his breath. "I'm sorry I said that. I just - didn't know." 

"S'okay. You really _didn't -_ " 

"I _thought_ I did. I thought…. Well, I shouldn't have thought that. I should have...trusted you." 

Spike laughed softly and his arms came up to hug Xander close, fingers ruffling through his hair. 

" _Should_ you have? Trust me? M'a vampire, pet. Evil, soulless -" 

"Yadda, yadda, yadda. I know. So they say - so _you_ say. But you did all this to save Dawn, and you were nice to me, even - at the start. You didn't have to be." Xander leaned his chin on Spike's sternum, going a little cross-eyed as he studied Spike's mouth. 

"I think - you can be as evil or as good as you want to be, and before you just...didn't have any reason to be good." Xander glanced up then, because there was something...but no. 

_Vampires don't cry. **Spike** doesn't. Just...a reflection._

"Spike?" 

"Best get showered, pet. Don't want to be late my last night." Spike voice was a little wavery but he twisted and got a kiss on Xander's nose - slid out from under him and climbed off the bed. While Spike did that so-familiar full-body stretch, Xander sat up and winced a little, and got slowly to his feet. "Sore, Xander?" 

"A little. Not too much, though. Ummm...can I take a shower with you?" Spike laughed - held his hand out and pulled Xander to his feet. 

"Counting on it, pet." He started to pull Xander to the bathroom and Xander admired the bunch and flex of his buttocks - the lean line of thigh and back, now unmarred by any marks, courtesy of the blood in the fridge. 

Xander reached out and ran his hand down Spike's ribs - curled his fingers around the hip-bone that rose there, jut of bone and muscle. "Do you think we can...uh….?" 

Spike turned around, walking backwards into the door and shoving it open with a kick of his foot. He was grinning, his tongue caught for a moment between his teeth. "Counting on _that_ too, pet," he purred, and Xander grinned. 

The name of the club was _'El Séptimo Sello'_ \- The Seventh Seal - and the biblical connotations (and decorations), gave Xander the creeps. It was a huge, old building done in a very 'colonial Spanish' style and lit up like a Las Vegas strip-joint. 

Spike strode in through the front door like a rock star, and Xander felt conspicuous and grubby and much, much too young. Spike had loaned him a dark red silk shirt and put a little liner under his eyes - told him he looked good enough to eat and then, half a block from the club had kissed him for five heart-pounding minutes up against a wall. Full-body grind and those fucking _hands_ , and Xander could feel every inch of his skin tingling. 

He was painfully hard and as they walked through rooms that were decorated in plush fabrics and leather and throbbing with music, a number of the vampires turned and stared - shifted to their demon aspects and sniffed after him. Spike just took his hand, snarling, and led him upstairs to what was obviously a 'behind the scenes' area. A small room with racks of clothes and a table full of makeup and other things. 

"You were 'bout to get pounced, love, the way you look. The way you...mmmm....smell...." 

Spike nuzzled into the crook of Xander's neck and Xander felt his knees wobble. From fear, from their walk through the club but mostly desire. Spike had turned something _on_ in him. Or that's what it felt like. Because just the _look_ in those heavy-lidded eyes - just a touch - a purring word in that fucking _voice_ that was like honey and opium…. And Xander was lost - gone - so lust-drunk it was like being thirteen all over again and jacking off three times a day; going through school a walking hard-on, and here he was right _back_ there. Spike's fingers on the small of his back, Spike's tongue just touching his skin, butterfly-kiss, so, so good. 

"Oh...God…." Xander slid his hands around Spike's waist, pulling him close and Spike's hands came up to sink into his hair and hold him - tilt his head and kiss him and Xander just leaned there, hardly able to breathe and so turned on he couldn't think. 

"You taste _so_ good," Spike murmured, and then he was pulling away - backing away and shrugging out of his coat. "You can sit down, if you like," he said, nodding, and Xander turned and saw the couch along the opposite wall. 

He walked stiff-legged to it and sat down gingerly on the edge, watching Spike. The vampire hung his coat up and then stripped, making Xander's heart pound. With a sly look over his shoulder, Spike bent over and began to slowly work on a pair of thin leather pants. By the time they were halfway up his thighs Xander thought he might faint. 

"Jesus, Spike - what the fuck?" 

"Just keeping you entertained, pet," Spike grinned, and Xander collapsed backwards with a groan. 

"I'm so 'entertained' I'm about to...embarrass myself." 

"That so?" Spike shimmied the pants the rest of the way up and then slipped on a blood-red shirt that was as thin as cobwebs. He rolled the sleeves up to his elbows and left the front of it open and turned around, sauntering to the table. The _pants_ were open, and he was hard, and Xander watched the sway of his cock, framed by black leather, and felt his fingers sink into the couch cushion. 

_Oh my...God. Fuck, he looks…._

Five minutes later Spike turned to face him and Xander couldn't help it, he _groaned_. But _Jesus_. Spike had put black eyeliner on - heavy and dark, like a Goth kid. And maybe lipstick, because his lips looked so blood-red - darker than usual. Ladders of silver bracelets up his wrists, rings on every finger. Even a necklace - heavy silver choker of chains and dangling stones that looked like diamonds but were probably just glass. 

And he looked...unearthly. Not human - _better_ than human. The liner and the shirt made the pallor of his skin even more pronounced, and as Xander watched Spike casually ran a little sponge over his chest and throat, leaving behind a faint shimmer of silver. 

"Fuck...." Xander whispered, and Spike rose out of the chair with a twist of his body - _prowled_ across the room. Xander couldn't help but stare at him; stare at his bone-white chest between the wings of the shirt, and at his cock, flushed and damp at the tip, jutting up hard and thick from the open pants. 

"This is what they want, pet. Whore. _Toy_. This is what they _get_. You want some, too?" 

Spike's voice was a purr; his eyes were huge and so very _blue_ ; brimming with some emotion that Xander couldn't interpret. Spike dropped gracefully to his knees, his hands on Xander's thighs, kneading lightly. Stroking towards his groin and Xander wanted to grab Spike's head and drag it down into his lap. 

_But...can't...oh, God…._

"Spike...I just…." Xander gasped, hips twitching upward, as Spike ran his fingertips over the bulge of flesh under Xander's zipper. "D-don't, okay? This....I'm...not p-paying, I'm...." 

Spike froze, his face going utterly blank and Xander felt like his heart had stopped. Pain in his chest, and he wanted to scream. "I just want you like...like in bed this afternoon, okay? Just...us. Okay? Please? Don't be mad...." 

Almost a whisper and Spike just looked at him. And then he _smiled_ \- God, smiled like he'd only done once or twice before - leaned forward and kissed Xander. Sweet, slow kiss - a kiss that said he wasn't mad and that he wasn't _going_ to be. 

Xander gave in to it eagerly - easily - because with his eyes closed it was their house and not this fucked up club full of fucked up people who liked to hurt other people. Who liked to see blood and pain and - _Spike's blood, Spike's pain...oh **fuck**._

Xander pulled back, finding his hands all unexpectedly in the hair that Spike had left soft and tousled and free of product. 

"Can't we just go home? I mean...can't you just...be done?" 

Spike's hands tightened on Xander's thighs for one moment and then he smiled again, and leaned back in and kissed Xander lightly on his cheek. 

"No, pet. Last night. Got some kind of...party. Something. Big chunk of money and it'll pay off everything." Spike rubbed his hands up and down Xander's thighs, slowly, and Xander let his fingers slip through the silken hair again and again. "Just one more time and then I'm done and then - we're out of this place, yeah?" 

"Yeah...." Xander sighed and pulled Spike close again for one more kiss then watched as he rose and smoothly did up the fly of the pants. They rode low on his hips - low enough to show the merest swell of the tip of his still-erect cock at the waist and Xander had to catch his breath and look away because Spike was so…. 

_Fucking sexy. God. No wonder. But this is it, no more after this and then...back to Sunnydale and... What the hell am I gonna **do** there?_

"Listen, Xander - after tonight, before we leave…. They're gonna do it. Turn this fucking chip off." Spike was staring at him, nervously fiddling with one of the rings and Xander pushed himself to his feet and walked over to him. Used one finger to tidy Spike's liner, flashing back to Willow and Buffy and 'Bronzing' - feeling that hurt in his chest again. 

"You were smudged," he explained. He wound his arms around Spike's waist and leaned into him. "I'm…. I've gotten used to the idea, you know? It's okay. Do I - I mean, is there anything I'm gonna have to do?" 

"Nah. I'll be....a little out of it, I guess. Oliverios - he's the owner - he's gonna have a car for us to get home in." Small grimace at that, because there was no love lost between Spike and the owner of the club. 

"Just don't invite him in, yeah? Don't invite _anybody_ in." 

"Sure." Xander raised a small smile and Spike smiled back - ran a hand back through his hair. 

"I'm going up now. There's a place for you to wait - got a TV and stuff…. I'll be awhile. Okay?" 

"Sure. Okay." Xander didn't _feel_ okay, but he wanted this night _over_. He followed a barefoot Spike out and down a corridor - up in a small elevator to a quieter, even more opulent floor. Spike ushered him into a small living room type of room with curtains all along one wall and a huge, flat-screen TV in one corner, a full bar in another. Squashy couches and chairs were scattered around, and the room looked comfortable and cozy. It creeped Xander out. 

"Okay?" Spike asked, hovering in the doorway and Xander nodded reluctantly. 

"Yeah, okay." Spike grinned, and then he was gone, and Xander sighed. He went over to the bar and got a soda and then sprawled down on a couch. There was a remote on the small coffee table and he clicked the TV on. _Die Hard_ was playing, dubbed in Spanish and Xander amused himself for a while by seeing how much of the mostly-forgotten - and forgettable - dialogue he could glean from the rapidly spoken words. He was actually surprised at his own fluency, and when the movie was over he waited with something like anticipation for the next thing to come on. 

"Enjoying yourself, _cachorro?_ " Xander jumped, twisting around on the couch to see a tall, elegantly dressed man coming into the room. 

_Cachorro? Cachorro...puppy? Fuck him._

"I'm - fine, thanks." Xander stood up slowly, uneasy. The man was pale with very black hair and a sleek mustache. His dove-grey suit looked expensive and fitted him perfectly, and he had a heavy gold and diamond ring on his right thumb. His eyes were eerie - a sort of pale green - and Xander found himself taking a step back before he stopped himself, clenching his teeth. 

_I'm here with Spike. They **know**. Nobody's gonna mess with me._

The thought didn't make his heart stop pounding, though. 

"Spike has been...very closed-mouth about you. I can see why." The man spoke with a pronounced accent, and his weird eyes slid over Xander like oil, assessing and greedy. "I'm Oliverios, the owner of _El Séptimo Sello_. And you are….?" 

"Just a friend. You know," Xander said, and then stopped himself. 

_No damn babble. Not now!_

_If he knew _anything_ about Spike, he knew he didn't like his private stuff talked about with strangers - or people he didn't like. And Spike really didn't _like_ Oliverios. And Xander _really_ didn't like being in the same room as a vampire older than Angelus._

"Oh, _friend?_ I know what you are, _cachorro_. It's all over you. You're here to...watch the show?" Xander glanced, puzzled, at the TV and Oliverios laughed. "No, _cachorro_ , not the TV. The _show_. The _Spike_ show." 

"What?" Xander said, but he felt a horrible twist of fear go through him, making his stomach drop - making him blanch. Oliverios laughed again, low and soft and fucking _creepy_ , and Xander flinched away when he came around the couch and brushed past. 

_Too damn close! God - wanna get out of here. Spike show - what the **fuck**?_

Oliverios went over to one of the heavily draped windows and twitched the curtains back, revealing a window. Xander stared for a moment because what he was seeing really _wasn't_ making any sense. There were eight or ten people in the room beyond, dressed in bits of black for the most part - leather and silk, he guessed, and what looked like vinyl - very shiny. Expensive, kinky-looking clothes that showed off as much as they covered. A white room, with...red, spattered over it. And a body hanging by its wrists, tattered red silk around the shoulders, tattered black at the ankles. Male body, striped with red - with purple-blue bruises…. 

_Spike._

"Oh _God_ -" Xander's hands went up, unconscious motion, and met cold glass and he stared, swallowing and swallowing, trying not to be sick. Not to be sick in front of _Oliverios_ , that fucking bastard, who just stood there, small and nasty smile on his face. 

"Oh, perhaps you did not _want_ to see this show," the vampire purred, and Xander closed his eyes, breathing, breathing. Opened them again. One of the black-clad figures - a woman - reached out with a metal and leather gloved hand and did - something - and Spike's head came up sharply, his mouth open in shock and pain. Demon-faced, agonized and screaming, but there was no sound. Oliverios seemed to read his mind. "Shall I turn on the speakers, _cachorro?_ " he asked. 

Xander saw his finger going toward a sleek, silver panel set flush into the wall and he knew - _knew_ \- he'd lose it if he could hear Spike. Knew he'd do something...really stupid. 

"No!" he gasped out and Oliverios chuckled silkily. Xander felt _rage_ rise up in him - hot and pounding and sharp as a razor. He turned slowly and took two steps - stopped about a foot from the vampire and stared at him. 

"You know Angelus? He came to our town. Tried to fuck us over. Know what happened to him?" 

Oliverios was staring at him, eyes narrowed, very, very still. Frozen, even. "We sent him to _hell_. Now get the _fuck_ away from me." 

Xander wanted to hit him - make him _bleed_ \- but knew he'd gone as far as he could. The vampire hissed at him, morphing to game face and then back. And then without a word he twitched away and stalked out of the room, back ramrod straight, quivering with fury. 

_Fuck, Spike, I'm sorry but…. Oh God, God…._

Xander turned and caught sight of Spike again and his hands reached for the curtain - hesitated, and fell back. 

_Can't pretend this isn't happening. Can't pretend it's not **him**. This is what he did...for us. For months. For fucking **money**. Because of us, because of the Initiative, this is what he did…._

Shaking, feeling so sick he wanted to lay down, Xander stood there and watched. 

_Watch this. **Remember** this. Don't ever, ever forget. Ever._

Spike eased his duster onto his shoulders slowly, slowly. Everything _hurt_ , God, fucking hurt, and he just wanted to get _on_ with it. Meet the Yn'n, and do the mojo, and the chip would be _off_. 

And he would be free. 

_And those motherfuckers are gonna pay. And pay big._

He ran his hands back through his hair, wincing, and then jerked around as someone knocked on the door. "Yeah?" 

"Oh, Spike -" It was Fancy, one of Oliverios human servants. The intricate gold-wire necklace and bracelets she wore didn't come off, and she was dressed in almost nothing. And looking spooked. 

Spike felt a little shiver of unease go over him. "You were supposed to be showin' the boy around - getting him a drink and stuff, Fancy." 

_Maybe I should have told him first - could be he just sent her away…._

Spike took in the clinging, translucent sheath dress and impossibly tall heels the woman wore. 

_Maybe he got embarrassed._

"I know! I'm sorry. Oliverios - told me not to. He - wanted to talk to - to him." 

Spike growled and the blonde woman flinched, her gaze darting to the floor, her whole body hunching. 

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry." 

"Oh - not your fault, pet. Know you have your orders." Spike fished out his flask and had a long drink. "Where is he?" 

"He's - where you left him. Oliverios... I'm sorry," Fancy whispered, and then turned and fled and Spike closed his eyes and took a deep breath - tilted his chin up and set his shoulders. 

_Doesn't matter. I told him what I do, nothing Oliverios could shock him with, that bastard. Just need to get this done and go...home._

Spike strode out of the dressing room and went up, tapping his fingers nervously on the elevator buttons. Upstairs again, going to the lounge - and he could _smell_ Xander. Could smell sweat and fear and.... _misery_ and he growled again. 

_Bastard - if he hurt him -_

He slammed the door open, searching, and Xander was _there_ , just there, standing motionless. And beyond him - 

_Fucking **bastard** , bloody **hell** , oh fuck, fuck, fuck -_

Beyond him the _room_ and a handful of servants cleaning up - swabbing blood off the slick tile walls. Spike walked fast, grabbing Xander's shoulder and turning him, jerking the curtain shut violently. 

"Xander -" He was totally unprepared for the boy _(my boy, damnit, **mine** , shouldn't have seen - should never have seen )_ to lunge at him and grab him, arms going around him in a hug that made him wince. 

"Spike - God, Spike, I'm sorry....I didn't know, I'm sorry -" 

"Xander? Stop that, now. Sorry for what? Pet?" Spike couldn't get him to let go without hurting himself _and_ the boy so he just hugged back, stroking the thick hair, rubbing a slow hand up and down Xander's back. 

"What it m-meant, what you - what you were doing -" Xander shivered, crowding closer and Spike shut his eyes. 

_God, I'm so tired…._

"Pet - stop that. That was... You shouldn't have _seen_ that, that was - something different, that -" 

"Don't _lie_ , Spike!" Flash of dark, wet eyes - flash of anger and betrayal. "I've seen the cuts and the bruises and - and everything. Don't try to tell me - _God!_ " Xander abruptly wrenched himself away, scrubbing his hands back through his hair and yanking the curtain back hard enough to tear it off the first two rings. 

"Xander -" Spike followed him, reaching out helplessly to touch and Xander flinched away. 

" _Don't_. I should never - should never have listened. Shouldn't have _let_ you -" 

" _Wrong!_ Wrong, _boy_." Spike shoved Xander back hard, wincing with him as his back and the back of his head connected with the window. "You don't _let_ me do anything, you understand? You don't have any say in what I do, or how I do it, and if I choose to keep you in _bloody_ food and clothes by _fucking_ then I _will_. You're a bloody _child_ -" 

Xander's sharp, hurt inhalation made him stop, finally, and he stood for moment, just staring at him. At the shocked, white face and clenched fists and dark, wounded eyes that sparkled with fiercely held-back tears. 

"Damnit, Xander, I - I'm _sorry_. Didn't mean to say that." 

"No, it's okay." Xander jerked his head aside, staring at nothing, blinking. "I mean, you're like - a hundred and fifty years old, I guess I _am_ just a - a kid -" 

"No, love, no, no, _no_." Spike reached out slowly and touched Xander's shoulder. When he didn't pull away, Spike slowly moved his fingers up, rubbing gently at Xander's neck - sliding his fingers around to the back of his head and finding the spot that made him twitch a little from soreness. 

"Listen to me Xander. Xander?" Spike put his fingers on Xander's chin, carefully turning his head so that Xander was looking right at him. Biting his lip, and meeting Spike's gaze in shaky defiance. "I'm just...angry. _Not_ at you, love. Angry that - that Oliverios showed you - that. I didn't…. I never meant for you to see that." 

"Because I'm just a _child_. Because I'm too stupid and too - too _immature_ -" 

"Shhhh...." Spike pulled Xander close, relieved when the boy relaxed into his arms instead of fighting. "No, that's not why. That's not why at all. It's because…." 

_Because I never, ever wanted you to see me like that.... See me - defeated. Because I was. Have been, for the longest time. But not after tonight. Not after the magic. Then - then I'll show you, love. Show you who I am when I'm not...afraid._

"I know why," Xander said softly, and he pulled away a little, looking at Spike with a sober, almost stern look. "You didn't want me to see for the same reasons I wore long-sleeved shirts to school even on the hot days. I didn't want anybody to know...I had bruises." 

Spike looked at Xander - thought about the yelling, and the little flinches, and the hunched stillness whenever he had to go upstairs. "Yeah, pet. That's exactly why. I'm the Big Bad, yeah?" 

Xander smiled faintly at him and Spike leaned forward until they were forehead to forehead, his arms around Xander and Xander's arms under the duster, hands locked in the small of Spike's back. 

"I'm still.... I'm so sorry, love, that you had to see. Can you just…." 

_Forget it? Erase it and never think about it. Never again.._

"I won't - tell. It's a secret, Spike. Won't tell anybody. But I'm not going to forget." Xander tipped his head enough to brush his lips over Spike's mouth, little nothing kiss that made Spike shudder. 

"I'm _never_ going to forget because nobody.... Nobody ever did anything, anything at all...." Xander stopped and then just _kissed_ him, his chin trembling and Spike kissed him back, sliding his hands up to gently hold his face - stroke his thumbs over Xander's jaw. 

Xander tasted of sweet and salt - tasted of something that was very much like love, but Spike pushed that away. 

_Don't push. Don't - expect. Just take what's given and...be satisfied._ He told himself; told the demon, and told his poet's heart. But he was pretty sure neither one listened. 

The Yn'n were waiting in a room in the lower level of the club, and Oliverios' household kept warily away. It was another lounge only this one a bit shabbier - meant for employees and not clients. The demons looked like bundles of animate sticks with burning, sulphur-yellow eyes. Spike felt a shiver of unease, seeing them. 

He'd made his deal - paid them what and how they wanted. But the mojo freaked him out, and Yn'n were so very strange - so _alien_ , even among demons. Oliverios was nowhere to be seen; having made his grand gesture, he'd backed out of any further interaction. Spike was grateful - ripping the head off of the owner's shoulders wouldn't go over well and that was pretty much what he wanted to do to Oliverios right this minute. Fancy was there, though. "Is there a car, Fancy?" he asked, watching with amusement as Xander look everywhere but the mostly-naked woman standing not three feet from him. 

"Yes, there's a car - right outside. The Yn'n say - it will hurt." 

"Good things always do," Spike said, giving her a small smile, and Fancy smiled back, then nodded over at the Yn'n, who shifted and then approached slowly, creaking softly. Spike half-turned to Xander. 

"Xander - Fancy'll show you the car when we're done here. I guess I'll be a bit - confused." 

"Okay," Xander said quietly, but he bit his lip, looking nervous. "Will it - take long?" 

"Dunno," Spike shrugged, then turned to face the Yn'n while Fancy drew Xander a few steps away. Five of them, and they surrounded him - reached out hard, twig-grey fingers to touch him - touch his head. Spike felt something like a static-shock at each place where their fingertips touched. Shock that buzzed and built and tingled all over him. Heat was building up under their fingers as well and Spike shut his eyes and gritted his teeth, riding it out as best he could. But it strengthened - more and more - until he could feel his whole body shuddering. And then the chip fired, and it didn't stop. 

When Spike began screaming Xander tried to rush to him but Fancy - surprisingly strong - held him back. 

"What they're doing would _kill_ you! Wait - just wait!" she whispered urgently, pushing him back and back until he hit the stucco-covered wall. 

Spike's body was a rigid arch and abruptly the scream choked off - ran out on a ragged thread. Spike collapsed and the stick-demons clicked to each other for a moment and then stalked away, jerky stop-animation movements that creeped Xander out. He and Fancy both scrambled to get to Spike. Xander knelt down and pulled Spike over onto his back - pulled him up onto his lap, straining with the dead weight. 

"Spike? You - in there? Hey - Spike!" Xander stroked Spike's face, hugging him close. The vampire didn't move and Xander glared up at Fancy. 

_And I'm crying again. Why am I always fucking **crying**? Jesus._

"What do we do? Did they say this would happen?" 

Fancy was white, her green eyes huge and scared-looking. She nodded hastily. "They said it would - burn out. They said it would hurt. He's going to be alright! You need to take him home." 

Fancy crossed the room quickly, avoiding the clutch of stick-demons that clicked and swayed to one side. She opened the door and called out, low and rapid Spanish and then hurried back to Xander. She knelt down opposite him, her eyes darting all around the room. "Listen!" she hissed. "Spike wanted me to set up something. I did. You tell him one week - like he asked. Hear me?" 

"What did -?" 

" _No!_ He'll tell you. _One week_. Understand?" She looked like she might be sick at any moment and Xander pulled Spike a little closer, wondering what in _hell_ was making her look like that. 

_Scared. She's scared out of her mind. What the **fuck** is going on?_

"Yeah - okay, I'll tell him." Xander's hands nervously clutched at the slick leather over Spike's chest - smoothed back his hair, again and again. 

_God - Spike - you didn't tell me it was gonna be like **this**._

He looked up, startled and wary, when two men - both big, dark, and silent - moved into the room. Fancy said something to them in Spanish and Xander was too upset to bother translating. 

"They're going to get Spike to the car and drive you home. In about - an hour someone will come with blood." Fancy looked ready to snap and Xander watched helplessly as the two men bent down and hauled Spike up - carried him effortlessly out the door. He scrambled to his feet and followed, shooting Fancy one last, mistrustful glance. 

"Right. Blood. Thanks," he added, and then he was around the corner and hurrying after the men, biting his lip to keep himself from yelling at them to be _careful_. 

A bulky sort of sedan waited in the alley and the men got Spike into the back seat and then silently climbed into the front as Xander scrambled in, pulling Spike close to him. The car growled to life and nosed out of the alley into traffic - there was always traffic - and began a slow drive home. A trickle of blood was coming down from Spike's nose and Xander wiped at it with the sleeve of his shirt. Spike hadn't bothered taking off the liner and Xander wiped at that as well, where tears had tracked it and smudged it. 

"Spike? I'm here. It's Xander, and I'm here, I've got you." He kissed Spike's forehead and rested his cheek there, murmuring softly. Hoping Spike could hear him - hoping he was comforted. "Going home, we're going home...you bastard, you should have _told_ me.... Almost there, almost there.. . God, I don't - don't know what I'd do if. .. " 

Xander hugged Spike tighter, rocking him. _Not_ saying that out loud, even if Spike was unconscious. 

_You have to be better. Have to wake **up**. Hate this...God, this shouldn't hurt so much but it **does** , it really does...I don't know...what you feel for me, Spike but... I think - I think I...love you. Think I love you…._

When they got home, Xander stripped off the clothes that reeked of the club, and got a bowl of hot water and a washcloth, and Spike's favorite clove soap, and gently, carefully, washed him. Did it in his _own_ bed, because Xander knew he'd get the sheets wet. Then he carefully got Spike over his shoulder and into the vampire's bed, and did a quick wash-up and change into soft cotton pants. He slipped into the bed next to Spike and wrapped himself as close as possible around the still, cool form. Warming him and holding him and just being there, because he hated the thought of Spike waking up alone even for a minute. He could hear anyone at the door and the phone was right _there_ and he wasn't going anywhere at all. 

_Yeah, I do. Love you, Spike, even though you don't love me. Won't make you say so - won't push you to that. But I do, and I'm not scared of it anymore._

He kissed Spike's mouth and his cheek and the tip of his nose - wished Spike would wake up, like Sleeping Beauty. And settled in to wait. 

Spike walked down the sidewalk, smoking - _strutting_. He felt good. Felt better than good - felt very much his old self. For the last week he'd fed - at will. No club, no… _give_. Just take. 

_Like it's supposed to be. Like it **was**. Vampire again._

_He practically _bounced_ as he walked, smirking to himself - reined himself back to a casual saunter as the neon and flashing lights of _El Séptimo Sello_ came into view. Fancy met him at the door, looking odd in a pair of plain black slacks and a dark blue silk shirt. More clothes than he'd ever seen her in. _

__

__

_"Hallo, love," he said, tossing his cigarette away, and she smiled at him - quick, nervous grimace._

__

__

"Spike - hurry, please," she whispered, and Spike stepped inside. 

"Oliverios is gone, yeah?" he asked, following her upstairs, and she nodded - nearly tripped on the seam of the elevator door. Nerves and fear around her like a cloud, rank and intoxicating. 

"He's gone. D-dinner with the Mayor." 

Spike snorted, shaking his head. Oliverios liked to play up to the humans of the city - liked to pretend to be a fine and upstanding citizen. It was a game Spike had never had the patience or the desire to join. 

"Well then, plenty of time. Everything's set and.... You still want me to -?" 

Fancy looked at him - looked down at her wrists, her fingers plucking unconsciously at the bracelets around them. "I do. I - still do," she said softly, and Spike nodded. 

The elevator stopped and they stepped out - went to the room that was oh, so familiar. Spike slung his duster off and handed it to Fancy and she hugged it to her. 

"Ready?" she whispered, and Spike grinned. 

"Love, I'm more than ready." 

Fancy nodded and opened the door and Spike stalked in. The group of humans - nine of them - who had been lounging in various postures of boredom around the room slowly stood up. One man - the oldest man, a tall, silver-haired European - stepped to the fore. 

"Spike! So pleased to see you. When Fancy told us you'd be here again, we were...very excited. But - you're not dressed properly." The man looked Spike up and down, taking in his worn black jeans, boots, tight t-shirt. No jewelry, no makeup. "You'll have to be punished for that," he said, his voice like silk and syrup. 

Spike grinned at him - took out a cigarette and lit it with a snap. "You think so, Christian?" 

Fancy shut the door, near-silent _snick_ of the lock and Spike changed - let the demon survey the prey that stood and stared at him so stupidly. "Let me tell you a story, _Christian_." He didn't come back out of the room for three hours. Fancy was waiting when he did. 

Xander was waiting as well - at home, curled into a blanket on the couch, staring blindly at the TV and some Bollywood film. When Spike slipped inside, he started up and then sat there, staring - hands clenched into fists. 

"You okay?" he asked softly, and Spike leaned back against the door, his head spinning just a little despite the long, meandering route that he'd taken to get home. 

"Oh, pet. I'm - fine, I'm...so _very_ fine...." Xander unwound himself from the blanket and came closer; cut off old jeans a worn t-shirt, his body palely golden in the dim, blue light of the television. He stopped a couple feet away, his eyes darting over Spike's body. Spike knew he couldn't really see anything - not with the duster, and the black clothes. 

"Spike?" 

Xander came a little closer and reached out to him, and just as his fingers touched Spike's cheek, there was a pounding on the door. Xander jumped, giving a little yelp and Spike growled. He knew _exactly_ who was on the other side of that door. 

"Don't say a word, love, all right?" he whispered, and Xander nodded, stepping back. Spike grinned then - turned and stared at the door, lifting his chin. Then he reached and opened it. Oliverios was there, glowering, as well as three other vamps - his personal guard. 

"Spike, you bastard," he hissed, and took a step forward - hit the barrier with a look of fury. 

"Place is in somebody else's name, Oliverios." He patted himself down for his cigarettes - made a show of slowly choosing and lighting while Oliverios stared coldly at him. "What is it you _want_ exactly, mate?" he asked finally, and Oliverios snarled silently, the demon finally coming to the fore. 

_One for me, you bastard._ He could sense Xander behind him, still and silent. _It'll be alright, pet. He'll be gone soon._

"You - used my club tonight to - to extract some sort of _petty revenge_ -" 

" _You_ deliberately chose some of the sickest fucks in the city, Oliverios. And you _told_ them things." Spike cocked his head a little, studying the older vampire. "You overstepped yourself and you know it. _They_ \- dishonored my line." 

_That_ was a laugh - his 'line' consisted of a madwoman, himself, and _Angel_ , and whatever get any of them had made that had managed to survive. Very, very few, if the truth be told. Aurelius was tight-knit, and those turned for convenience or pleasure rarely lasted more than a year. 

"I did what honor dictated I do," Spike added, almost choking on the laughter that wanted to bubble up. He shrugged - took a long draw on his smoke and watched Oliverios try to control his anger. 

"You cost me nine of my wealthiest clients. You brought the sanctity _and_ the integrity of _El Séptimo_ into question with _all_ my clients - with the entire demon community! The safety - the _confidentiality_ \- of my club has been breached!" 

"I made close to 12 million _pesos_ for you, Oliverios. You're _more_ than compensated. You're bloody _lucky_ all I did was take nine humans apart in on of you special rooms! I'd thought to take out everybody that'd ever _seen_ me in there." 

And he had, too, but a bloodbath of _that_ proportion would have made it impossible for Oliverios to back down, and Spike didn't feel like starting a war, just now. Not with Xander so easily in the cross-hairs. Spike smoked down another half-inch of his cigarette and flicked the butt into the chest of one of Oliverios' guards, making the guard jump back, swatting at his shirt-front. 

"Besides - I'm leaving. You can smooth your client list down and throw a party and everything will be back to normal by the end of the week. You know these little....dust-ups never last." 

" _Dust. Ups,_ " Oliverios growled and Spike changed, as well - growled back, oblivious to the sharp intake of breath behind him from Xander. 

_Not the time to draw attention, pet,_ Spike thought, but then let it go in favor of staring Oliverios down. "You knew it was going to happen, Oliverios. You _knew_ I wouldn't let them walk away. What is it you're _really_ here for?" 

Spike knew this bluster about the clients - about Christian and his little covey of sycophants - was merely cover. They were _humans_ , and in the grand scale of things - particularly to a vamp like Oliverios - weighed out to almost nothing. Oliverios glared at him, his eyes molten-gold in the dimness of the landing. 

"You killed _Fancy_ ," he hissed, and Xander _did_ make a noise this time - soft sound of dismay. 

Spike shrugged, took off his duster and tossed it down onto a nearby chair. "I did. She asked me to. That was part of our deal. She got me the room - got me _Christian_. I got her free." 

Oliverios snarled and smashed one fist into the barrier - straightened away, suddenly, and smoothed his suit-coat. Shook the demon away, and reached into a breast pocket for a slim silver case. He pulled out a narrow, black cigar and lit it, slowly. 

"You owe me, Spike." 

Spike shrugged again. "Yeah, so - it was worth it. I'm leaving, Oliverios. Whatever I do for you fits _my_ plans. We're quits, after this." 

Oliverios smoked slowly - nodded his head. "Yes. We are. And you don't come back here, Spike. _Ever_."

_Oh - couldn't see **that** comin' a mile away._

"Sure, mate. Whatever you say. Send one of your boys over with the details. We're out of here end of the week, so don't take too long."

Oliverios drew on his cigar again - examined it briefly. "Tomorrow at sunset. And Spike - better get a collar and leash for your little _cachorro_ , there. He might stray."

Oliverios grinned and Spike shook his own demon away - raised two fingers in salute and shut the door between them.

Now that he'd taken the duster off Spike knew Xander could see the state of his clothes, and he just stood for a long moment looking at the door - listening to Oliverios and his bodyguards make their way downstairs - into a car that purred away into the twilight of the coming dawn. Spike looked down at himself, studying the blood that ringed each cuticle and was ground into the skin of his knuckles. 

_Take a long soak to get that out,_ he thought, and then Xander's fingers were on his shoulder - a ghostly touch, there and gone.

"Spike? You're not - hurt, are you? You didn't -"

_Didn't let them touch me, pet. No worries there. Just one of me, nine of them...but humans are so fragile, and those chains - those straps - kept a vampire helpless._

"Didn't do anything but what I swore I would, pet. Took them out. Drank them down." 

It was more a relief than anything. It had felt _good_ , doing it - felt good to see them writhe and scream and twist in helpless agony. Their blood had gone down like honey - like opium and applejack and he still felt drunk - felt _clean_ , finally. Felt whole. 

_Washed in the blood._

But he was tired now, too. Just - tired. He turned finally and looked at the boy - took in his wide, dark eyes and the tight set of his lips - the tension that made his whole body shiver.

_Do you care, Xander? Or is this all for those humans that died? Are you on the edge of anger for them? Or tears? Or is it for me?_

"There's blood on your clothes," Xander said finally. Softly. Keeping his voice low, but Spike could hear the cracks in it.

Spike nodded, brushing one hand lightly down the stiff front of his t-shirt where blood had dried in shiny, crackling patches. "Sorry, love. I'll burn these. They won't come clean." Xander nodded absently at that, the knowledge of blood and how tenacious it was in his eyes. 

_Child of Hell, this one - don't have to tell him things he already knows._

"Why did you kill Fancy?" Xander asked, and Spike blinked in surprise at him.

"She asked me too, pet. She wanted free."

Xander tipped his head a little to one side, eyes going narrow. "Free of _what?_ She wasn't a vampire."

"No, love, she wasn't. She was his - possession. She'd been there since she was a child. He snatched her up in the States, years ago. Brought her up to be his own little bed-warmer, didn't he? Since she was nine."

Xander winced at that but Spike wasn't going to make things pretty for him - he didn't need that sort of protection. Not anymore.

"She was near thirty - getting old, for him. He was going to turn her. She didn't want that. That jewelry of hers - kept her from going."

_Magic_ \- the unspoken word that Xander heard loud and clear. He nodded slowly, and finally - finally - one hand unlocked from its clench by his thighs and reached out. Touched Spike's cheek, and his lip. 

"I'm glad you're back," was all he said.

Then he turned and went back to the couch and settled again, blanket over his naked legs, eyes blindly on the kaleidoscope of color and sound on the TV.

Spike watched him for a moment and then he walked stiffly out of the room, feeling every one of his one-hundred and fifty years in his flesh and bones. He stripped and pushed the ruined clothing into the trash - went into the bathroom and got in the shower and stayed there for as long as he could. Until the water was going cold, and his fingers were salt-white again.

When he came out finally, the sun was well above the horizon and the whole house was shuttered, gold-green or garnet haze in every room. He went slowly into his bedroom, exhaustion like lead in his marrow - like chains, weighing him down. And stopped, staring. 

There was a long, low hump in his bed and as he watched it moved - turned. Xander raised a bed-tousled head, looking blearily at him. Amber-rose light through the blinds, anise-sweet scent in the air. Sweet smile on Xander's face.

"Come to bed, Spike," Xander said softly, holding out his hand, and Spike did.

On Friday, they left Veracruz in the late morning, Xander carefully guiding the DeSoto through the crowded streets, Spike curled asleep in the back. Two bags in the trunk, a sheaf of cash in a lock-box under the front seat. Miles and roads ahead of them. Xander couldn't help but smile as he steered them north. Leaving, and with Spike. Something - beginning. He knew it was going to be amazing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Xander picks up and read a short bit of 'Babett's Feast' by Isak Dinesen.

**Author's Note:**

> For some of this fic, Spike is working at 'blood houses', where humans pay to have vampires bite them. Initially, he still has the chip, but finds a work-around. At the second house, for bigger pay-outs, he's being 'bought' by some fairly sadistic S&M type people. No graphic descriptions.
> 
> A human woman who was sex-trafficked as a child to this house asks Spike to kill her as payment for releasing her from the hold her 'owner' has on her.


End file.
